


Crisis: The Final Fantasy 7 Novel

by Team_Wingless



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/M, Final Fantasy 7 Remake, FinalFantasy7Remake, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-07 07:32:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4254738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Team_Wingless/pseuds/Team_Wingless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A demonic God, an awakened Guardian. Jenova hunts the fallen Goddess Ifah, who shares a mysterious connection to a destitute flower girl from the Slums. Now Jenova's errant son seeks the end of the world. A final hope may lie in an X-SOLDIER turned drug-dealer, who knows as much about himself as he knows about any of this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lowcity

Under the Plate, there is no light. Falselight falls from halogen gel-lamps affixed to a durasteel sky, crushed beneath the vast enormity of Midgar City's floating surface-layer. Here dark communities wend their way in culminated clutches of poverty, working to exhaustion in thermal reactors and regrouping in dingy cash-only dive-bars. Everyone did what they could, what they had to, to survive.

He was no exception, seated on his stolen Ducati G-Bike atop North Hill that overlooked the wasteland metropolis, like he always did whenever a route ran long. Something happened here once, and for the life of him, he couldn't remember what. For now, at least, he was content to contemplate in his gunmetal-black fatigues with a ball-bashing Buster Sword on his back. He stood a cursed prophet, a dark warrior, rending rays of lunar light through a shag of blonde spikes and piercing cyan eyes. A SOLDIER, but not anymore.

His phone rang. He whipped it out like a switch blade.

_"NEW SEAMLESS ORDER."_

He threw on his red delivery vest, kicked his bike into fifth gear, and rode the clutch down toward the Hell that was home.

"Welcome CLOUD STRIFE, SOLDIER 1st CLASS," his bike-computer scanned his heat signature.

Down the Interstate onto the Expressway, he weaved through inner-city traffic against the shadow of the Shinra Headquarters Building, towering like a colossus of failed industrial theory. Exit for Bedford-Nostrand Ave, and he descended into the slums of lowcity under the Plate.

The riverbed was a shortcut. He cut into the divider and rode along the dried concrete bottom. Then he realized his mistake too late as a chain pulled taught across his path, sending him flying from his bike. The symbol of three trilateral lattices flared in spray-paint on the ground.

_Triads._

The rival gang members converged on a fallen Cloud, drawing swords, battle lances, halberds, glaives, and firearms. Cloud popped to his feet into combat-mode, and that big Buster Sword flew from his back to his hands.

They ran in with weapons swinging, and Cloud slashed in a beautiful elliptical arc to send the first three flying back against the riverbed wall. A split-second after, a tall and aggressive thug came right in on Cloud, slapping with the butt of his saber, then spinning it over full in a brutal thrust designed for a quick kill, a strong move perfectly executed.

Cloud's sword spun up counterclockwise in front of him, striking the thrusting saber in succession and driving the weapon's tip harmlessly above the striking line of its wielder's shoulder. A strong kick to the solarplexus and that guy was out of the fight-circle. Two more halberds charged in on him. He spun to the side and launched a blinding uppercut slice, deflecting both attacks. Then he reversed his body's momentum, dropped to one knee, back in line with his opponents, and thrust in low with a snap of his outstretched arms. His jabbing blunt-sided blade caught the first, and the second, squarely in the groin.

They dropped their weapons in unison, clutched their bruised parts, and slumped to their knees. Cloud leaped up before them, ready for any who would come next. He dived into a roll through a break in the circle, came up quickly, and downed a fourth opponent, who was concealed for a backstab surprise, with a backhand chop to the chest.

A gap opened in the ring of assailants. He scrambled to pick his bike up, hopped back on and gunned it out of the riverbed. Triads territory had expanded, an act of war. He'd take note and let someone who cared deal with it.

His route ran through a scuzzy neighborhood near a community college. He huffed it up to the dorms with the luckily still-hot food and rang the bell.

"Delivery!"

The customer came out—some chick—grabbed the bag and slammed the door.  _No tip_. Cloud was half an hour late after all, but man, he fought for his life to get that food to her! But this next delivery was one he couldn't be late for. The next delivery was special, slung over the seat in his red hotlayered bag. He burned tire-tread down to the rendezvous point.

The meeting spot, a blown-out office building. His phone rang right on time. Blocked number.

"Hello?"

"…Hold please…"

Elevator music. Cloud tapped his toe in anticipation until the line went live again.

"Good evening."

"Snakeman there?"

"Who's calling?"

"It's Cloud. I've got the videogames you wanted."

"Ah. Hello Mr. Strife. We've been expecting your call. How will you be accepting our credit-line?"

"Uh,  _gil_. You know, that green stuff that makes food appear on your table."

"Unfortunately, we're having a cash-flow problem at the moment. Can you front?"

"Oh man, I need the money bad."

The line went dead.

"Sonofa—" he dialed another number. It rang three times. He paced.

"Wassup G?"

"Barrett, your guy bailed on me."

Silence.

"He  _what?"_

"He clicked on me, man! No sale!"

"Da'hell u mean  _no sale_?"

"I mean I asked for cash and he bailed. Call him back for me."

"I don't got his number."

"How do you not have his number?"

"This ain't ebay shit! Ain't no customer service! U go through a network of fronts and blinds. U think I was born yestaday? U trying to case me!"

"Look I got the stuff right here—"

"Yeah and you gonna call me back in ten minutes sayin' you got robbed. Nigga I know how this works!"

"Oh my god Barrett. Just call your guy!"

"I like you Lil' Mo, but if you don't got my $50,000 gil by last call, you better be  _real_ good at hide' n' seek."

He heard the cold cock of a gun barrel, then the line went dead.

Heart rate increasing. This little red delivery package was more grief than it was worth…or was it? He broke his own rule: He looked in the package.

Inside were packs of C4, Semtex, and a kilo of powdery Dancer. He freaked against the side of his bike.

"OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. I'm dead! What do I do? What am I gonna do?! What am I—"

_SLOW COUNT BACK FROM TEN!_

A Voice, in his head.

"Wait..Whuh?"

_JUST DO IT!_

Deep breaths, gasping air, he started counting.

"10…9…8…"

_That's it._

"…3…2…"

He coughed…and felt calm.

_Call your man._

"What man?"

Silence. His thoughts became still. The Voice rescinded back into his subconscious. He whipped out his phone and dialed without thinking.

"H'llo?"

"It's Cloud. You want ice cream?"

"…Yeah. You got some?"

"Need sprinkles. Lotta sprinkles."

"How many?"

"Ten Thousand. All green. All in."

"Go fuck yourself!"

_THREATEN HIM!_

"LISTEN BRO! This is aint no ebay shit! I'm not your customer service rep! You know me, I will  _find you_. If you try to rip me off, you better be  _real_ good at hide' n' seek!"

"…"

"…"

"…20 minutes at Mammy's house."

The line went dead. Cloud exhaled.

For the next three hours he flew around the lower sectors like a mad man, phoning while driving, texting with eyes off the road, swerving into oncoming traffic. A chemical rush like neurotoxin coursed through his mind, impairing his rationale. He made sales to rival gang members on the downlow.

By midnight he'd ditched the explosives and the cash was in-hand. Forty-thousand gil, heavy and haughty. Now for the last drop; the kilo of Dancer. He sped off to the warehouse districts of the Sector 5 Slums.

The Warehouses was an abandoned factory zone near the Sector's reactor where hoodrats threw house-parties and did drugs. The rave scene was hot tonight and ready to score. So was Cloud. He ducked into a convenience kiosk outside the "Zone of Alienation" and bought ziplock bags, condoms, and a razor blade. The clerk didn't bat an eye. He pulled into the back alley and parked his bike beside a trashcan, then flipped the can over and got to work.

He tied a bandana around his mouth—he didn't want to breathe anything in—and ripped the bag to spill the contents onto the flat surface. Sectioning off the powder into lines with the razor blade, he scooped them into the tiny ziplock baggies whilst looking back over his shoulder every other second. The nervewracking fear of a bogie casing him was maddening. He filled ten condoms for good measure and good luck, cutting the dope with the precision of an artist despite his shaking hand and sweat-laden brow.

Then, off to the clubs. The Warehouses came upon him in glorious sacrilege, and he came upon them like a priest in gunmental awaiting its sinful reprise. With a black sleeveless hoodie pulled down low over his eyes, he leaned against the wall heckling at the kids that passed him by.

"Hey guys. Wanna dance?"

A bunch of hoodlums with dates; he sold them a condom for $900 gil. Big groups always went in on them and they lasted most of the night. Little dime bags went like candy to under-agers and groupie girls looking for a good time.

"Hey girls, lemme teach you how to dance."

Gorgeous girls—topsiders from above the Plate—rich kids congregated down in the Slums for stimulation from their lavishly dull world above.

"Dance lessons," Cloud chanted with eyes turned downward in shade. "Dance, dance?"

By 2:AM he was riding high, bank rolls in his side-pockets and a few packets of Dancer left. But the night was waning down. Everyone who was going to the party was likely already there. He'd get no more business here. But he knew where he could get quick sales after-hours in a literal pinch. He headed to the Gutters.

The Gutters was the west outskirt of the Sector Zero Slums, a trash-heap of blinding poverty right smack below the Shinra Corporation's Headquarters Building. Midgar City's dirty little secret. He parked his bike behind a brick pile and hit the back alleys on foot.

They descended on him like vultures, hookers and skanks soliciting him with the gusto of grown men.

"Hey SOLDIEEERRRR, I got something for you right here. Right here Mister. Hey Mister!"

Women in leggings pumped their hips at him. He eyed them with the scrutiny of a horse trader. One young tawny blonde shuffled up to him—which was odd. Most girls knew the rules, don't approach strangers if they don't call you, unless you're looking to get jumped.

"Um, you got some little SOLDIER's for me?"

She was new. Strutting in her tied Gucci toe-sandals that cost a pretty penny. Runnaway. Her dirty mouth struggled like a pre-teen. How old was she? Cloud waved her to follow him. He had something for her alright.

They walked into a dumpster slot behind a blown-out brownstone. She sauntered after with that slutty swagger but Cloud saw her hands. She was trembling. A sidelong glance back the way they'd come, just a split-second of her not paying attention, and Cloud grabbed her. He dragged her behind the dumpster and cupped his hand over her mouth, covering her nose. She couldn't breathe. Clutching her close to his body, pinning her against the wall, he saw the raw terror in her eyes.

"Is this what you want? Strange men grabbing you in dark alleys?"

He threw her out onto the pavement. She toppled like a stricken idiot child.

"Go home," said Cloud. "Find another gig."

The girl picked her wits up and ran...back toward the train station. Cloud continued out into the labyrinth of side-streets.

He was a few hundred shy of his mark, and still needed a score. Time to get serious. He tread lightly into junkie land, where a mental hospital had closed down recently. The first girl he saw—a blonde burnout mid-twenties—he approached.

This was sketchy though. Cops sometimes planted traps in this area. There were ways to tell them apart though. He stood up straight and professional as he neared her.

"Hi. I'm a freelance photographer. I was wondering if you'd be interested in doing some nude modeling?"

She was. She was legit. He acted smooth, routine, like he was looking for a quick score until...

"Well, actually, I am a photographer, but I'm also a professional dancer."

Her eyes flew wide, the need. He saw the feral phase of addiction, and the seller became the buyer.

She'd been working all night. She had money. So they hit up a squat off the main byway, a lock-and-key place called "Cheap Motel." Seated sidelong on the bed, they flirted with a mirror over their lap, but she pulled out a candle and spoon from her red sidepouch. The real deal.

Unlike most dealers, Cloud didn't do his own product. He didn't do anything at all, but he knew how to get around it. While she tracked her own hit with the concentration of a surgeon, he pulled out a syringe of water from his back pocket. Her eyes were blown by the time he tracked his own hit on his full bicep. She was already loading a second dose.

Laughing with her hands sweeping his arms, she rode the rush of hormones until she passed out. OD's were nothing to girls like her, they did it all the time and lived to tell about it. But a sober guy in the room with a passed out girl was the definition of dangerous. Cloud threw her limp body onto the bed. He rifled through her purse, pocketed her night's pay…and left her there. Stealing from a hooker was bad enough.

The keys, however, were another matter. What guys did here was wait outside to buy them off whoever came out. Cloud didn't make it ten steps before a jack in a trucker hat ran up to him.

"Hey John, you see Lucy?"

"Nope."

"I been lookin' for'er. She owes me  _maaad_ money, yo. Like a whole clutch of gil right now!"

"Beat it!"

"Aight, sorry. Man, what a waste."

The guy slunk off like a skulking dog, and Cloud dropped the keys into the sewer grate.

He made his way back to his bike with an hour until Last Call. He stashed the cash under the leather of his seat and burned tread out of that industrial slumhole. High speeds up to the Interstate, and then onto the Expressway again. Traveling below the Plate was best done from above the Plate, unless one rode an ATV or something. Then…

The flashing strobe of siren lights behind him.  _Dammit._  He had a few options. He could gun the clutch and hit the turnpike off the Junction—and run straight smack into the Financial District and more Shinra guards—or he could bite the bullet and skip a night in jail. Any other night he'd have jetted off at speeds a Paragon chopper couldn't catch, but the memory of the cold gun barrel click reminded him that he was on an airtight schedule. He pulled over.

The squad cars pulled up behind him and a grip of guards in Shinra stripes approached his bike. He pulled his pauldron down as low as he could over his gang tattoo.

"License and registration."

Cloud pulled the fake documents out of his wallet, praying they wouldn't run them against the computer. They didn't.

"Where's your DOT?" the officer asked.

"I forgot it at home," Cloud replied. Sometimes they let you slide with with a warning.

"You know how fast you were going, son?"

"No sir."

"You were a mile away from reckless driving."

"My bad, sir. I had a family emergency."

The officer caught sight of his pauldroned, gunmetal black fatigues, and his eyes peered to sharp slits.

"Nice uniform. Where'd you get it?"

"Surplus store."

Then the squaddie's eyes slid over the flattened railroad track of a sword clipped to his back.

"You got a permit for that pool cue?"

"I go through Sector 0 to get to work."

"The hell kinda work you do going through there?"

"…Deliveries?"

"Search him."

His partner ordered Cloud off the bike, stood him legs spread and hands on head against the guard rail, and patted him down.

"He's clean Squad Leader."

Cloud sighed silently in relief, glad they hadn't pulled him over five minutes ago.

"Mind if we search your bike—"

"Yessir. If you please I really have to get home to my sick mother. She's diabetic and is out of insulin."

The guard grunted. They needed permission to search a ride, and Cloud knew the drill. He didn't buy the sick mother excuse for a second.

"At arms," the guard muttered, just to see Cloud's reaction, and Cloud twitched up a little straighter—he knew the order for standing at attention by muscle memory, normally something they drill into recruits at SOLDIER A-School. Who was this kid?

"I'd write you a ticket, kid, but I doubt the city would see a penny." The Squaddie lectured him. Cloud couldn't believe he was actually being lectured! The guard eyed Cloud's taught, muscled swimmer's frame, a body most people gained only through endless push-ups in the mud and partner-pullups with someone grabbing their feet. SOLDIER training. "I can see you've got big dreams, wouldn't want to waste them."

Cloud snickered under his breath. It had been a long time since he'd heard the spiel on honor and integrity...it was nice.

They let him go and he rode the speed limit to the next exit, then blasted to 90MPH. Short time. No time.

He reached Sector 7 in lowcity out of gas, a hood the cops knew as Bensonhurst. He parked outside a run-down bar called Seventh Heaven with neon beer signs that turned off as he neared.  _Last Call._

Inside, the bartender hopped over the bar and went to him; a combat-boot girl with shaded eyes and ravenhair pulled in a tight fishtail. She rushed up to him and he threw his arms around her.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. You?"

"I'm fine. Lemme take care of this."

He patted her shoulder and beelined for the basement door.

"Barrett!" he stomped down like the law was in town.

Barrett Wallace sat reclined on a man-cave Lawson couch, a huge hand fingering the mechanism for a gun-barrel that clicked like a cricket—it was attached to his other amputated hand.

"U just on time, Lil' Mo. Latifah closed the bar five minutes ago." He flipped the safety back on his arm-cannon.

Cloud threw the satchel on the table with a glare that could outshine lasers.

"Here's your money. I want my cut.  _Now."_

"Aight, aight, relax B. Biggs."

"Boss."

"Count'em."

His two joeboys got to work counting the bills while Cloud leaned in shadowed shade against the back wall. His dagger eyes made them nervous as they muttered in his general direction.

"Who this dude anyway?"

" _Shh_. Mercenary."

"Somethin' you wanna tell us, boss? Like why not hire someone  _normal_?"

"No. Why the hell would I hire normal people?"

"It's safer than hiring SOLDIER."

"You shut'cha face! He was, now he ain't. Can it, yo."

"Straight dope."

Cloud stood silent and stone as their suspicious gazes trained on him. They counted cuts and Barrett gave Cloud his personally. Cloud counted it right there in front of him again, and his eyes flew wide with rage.

"HEY! This is a ten not a hundred. You're shorting me!" Cloud squared up with the big bull-rocker of a man.

"Aight, aight, calm down Lil' Mo. You know I gets letters and numbers mixed up sometimes. Ain't no thang. Here."

Cloud handed Barrett a $1 bill. And he handed Cloud back a $100 without checking. Cloud pocketed the cash, said nothing, and stormed back up the way he came.

Upstairs, he and the girl whisked into the bar kitchen and sat on some stools by a small table. Cloud's shaded glare evaporated to the look of calculated worry that they both shared.

"I got the job done, Tifa. Here's ours. And this is for you."

He slid her $100 gil, and she gasped.

"How did you—"

"Shh." He put it under her hand and pushed it toward her, letting it rest there for a swift moment. She gave up and put it in her boot sock.

"I heard shouting downstairs and you came back late. I was getting really worried."

"Don't worry. Some craziness came up, but I figured it out."

"There's been nothing but thugs hanging around here ever since Barrett moved in. I don't know what he does down there but I hate when you take jobs from him."

"Yeah. I'm not going to work for him anymore."

A sad, shadowed look crossed her eyes.

"…You've said that before."

Just then, the barback ducked in the kitchen, a kid named Wedge Slade—not his real name.

"Hey kid," Cloud called out. "Give us a minute, will ya?"

"Oh sorry boss."

"No problem." And Wedge walked back the way he came. But when Tifa glanced back at Cloud, her eyes flew wide.

"Cloud, oh my god!" She jumped to his side, where blood streamed down his arm from a puncture site.

"It's nothing," he reassured her.

"It's  _not_ nothing, you're bleeding. What happened?"

"I took a shot of water to close a deal."

"CLOUD! I hate when you do that! You said you'd quit  _that_ job too."

"It was just a junkie round Holland Street, to get the last of the money."

But then, she stood up and took a slow step back. A look of mottled terror in her grey eyes, she braced herself.

"…what did you…?

He sighed in a slouched slump. "…I ditched the keys, Tifa. Don't worry."

"Dammit Cloud, I can't live like this! I don't know who's good or bad anymore."

"What are you talking about? We're the good guys, they're the bad guys," he pointed at the sky, the Platedwellers topside. "What's to know?"

"You're in a gang!"

"Well how else am I supposed to keep us safe! We need their protection!"

"We need to get out of here! This isn't what I bargained for when I left Nibelheim! What happened?"

"Life happened! At least we're in the city. All I've heard you do is complain about your deadbeat hometown in all the five years I've known you!"

She stopped, taken aback, as did he.

"…Sorry." He ran a heavy hand over his head and turned to leave. But she took a step forward, calling to him with eyes that needed not to cry.

"…What happened to my friend Cloud?"

Silence. A deep moment of contemplation passed before he spoke.

"…He grew up."

He left her standing there stunned as he marched out of the bar's kitchen. The Seventh Heaven had rooms upstairs, but they weren't for him. He couldn't afford them. Instead he headed back down to the basement he shared with Barrett, to a back storage room the size of a walk-in closet. His clothes and belongings were strewn all over the floor, a disheveled mess that he could never seem to clean—the telltale signature of depression. He leaned his sword against the wall and slumped onto his bed, a rutty mattress on the floor. Gazing up at his water-stained ceiling, he whispered into philharmonic dark.

"Are you going to talk to me tonight?"

No answer. No Voice.

Tossing, claustrophobic in the stillness, he closed his eyes and waited for the darkness to take him.

 

[Received 100 Gil]


	2. Cloud Strife

In lowcity, people fought like animals to survive. He had no idea how he was still alive.

Cloud was 21 years old, and already he felt like an old man. He existed in a state of cognitive dissonance, the most powerful force in nature. All the speed he fenced, the turns he'd taken and corners he'd cut in lowcity, and still he couldn't figure out how the hell he'd gotten there, where it all went wrong.

He shacked up in a run-down tavern in a bad Sector 7 neighborhood, and earned his keep doing Seamless runs and anything else that needed to be ferried from point A to point B. He dealt Dancer in rival gang territory, closed shady arms-deal for the mob, about the only thing he didn't do was hits. Cloud was everyone's go-to gun-runner, no threat to anyone, just a delivery boy with a bike.

Midgar was Highrise Hell over a gutterpunk ghetto. Sector 7 tried to paint itself as a college town, but Cloud liked Wedge's interpretation of it better.

"There was more to do in Nagasaki after the bomb went off than there is in this dilapidated fuck-hole."

His hood was a hangout for AVALANCHE thugs like Barrett and the faux-revolutionaries he ripped-off. The gang got its funding from a branch of the Sierra Club topside at the University, fronting as an eco-terrorist group that blew up Mako Reactors for "Mutha Naycha." If the students knew that all their GoFundMe donations were going straight to a Dancer-ring, they'd drop their activism and head straight back to church in tears.

Cloud fell in with them for protection, even though a sick pride in him felt like he didn't need it. His only reason for staying there was probably  _her_.

She was Latifah Marianne Lockheart, but only people who didn't like her called her that. He ran into her by chance after his last military deployment, and they'd been friends ever since. She'd somehow landed a gig waiting tables at a mob bar, and when the bartender mysteriously vanished, she got bumped up the food chain. So Cloud got free room and board in exchange for work. She wanted to leave, he wanted to leave, but she was the only one with a job, and Cloud couldn't even get work as a security guard without identification papers.

In the hazy null of falselight, Cloud leaned on the porch railing in back of the tavern and spoke to an artificial sunset.

"Hi Angeal…I haven't talked to you in a while. My bad. I guess I've been ashamed." A long sigh, he ran a hand over his face. "I know this isn't what you pictured when you were training a SOLDIER. But I just want you to know I've been keeping up with my field training. I leveled up and everything. Last I remember I was in a chopper getting ready to deploy somewhere. Stuff went down. I had to run. But I had nowhere to go. I woke up here."

A long silence ensued. That space in between heartbeats is where Cloud fled for solitude.

"Sometimes I think the voice I hear in my head is you, but that's silly."

Ambulance sirens echoed in the distance, a serenade to a riot that was going on by the Wall Market.

"I forgot what you told me about honor. I forgot, Angeal. For the life of me I can't remember, not if you put a gun to my head. I'm sorry, Angeal. I'm so sorry."

His head sunk low in the stillness of fake dusk, crushed under a steel plate the size of his entire world.

 

[Received Ether]


	3. Seventh Heaven

A gunblade swept a slice-arc line in the sand, crash-flaring to connect with that tungsten Buster Sword. Two slitting hits like a scorpion tail and the gunblade flicked backhanded, then spun-sliced in a flying circle to sheer sparks off the blunt side of that big weapon. Cloud had never used the sharp edge once. A harrowing wind-up bash from that big blade sent Wedge Slade toppling across the ground.

Cloud relaxed out of combat-mode and went to the kid, who slumped on the ground with his elbows on his knees.

"You're holding back," he said as he picked him up by an arm. "I know you can do better. What's eating you?"

A big sigh from a little kid. "Man, I'll never be as good as you. Even if I get kinda good, it still won't be good enough."

"For what? For you?...Or for me?"

"…For SOLDIER."

Cloud smiled, and ruffled the kid's shag of brown hair.

"SOLDIER isn't what it used to be. They're not commandos anymore."

"But it's my dream, like yours was."

"You'd be joining a chain-gang. Best to go to school and follow your own dreams, not your country's, not your parents', and definitely not mine."

Wedge's shoulders fell to his feet, his confidence in his boots. Cloud just smiled and hit the kid's chin up. Then, he rested a hand on his shoulder.

"But whatever dream you do decide to follow, if you fight with all your heart and keep working hard, you  _will_ get it. I promise."

That did it. A small smile crept across Wedge's face. Cloud spun his massive sword over his shoulder and they walked back toward the tavern together from the dried up baseball field they trained in.

"I've never seen you actually  _use_ that sword," Wedge commented. "Why do you hit with the blunt edge?"

"Dunno, personal preference I guess."

"Can I try swinging it around someday?"

"Tsh, if you can lift it, you can have it."

" _Practice over already?_ " A challenger appeared.

Tifa leaned on the chainlink fence with a leering look in her eyes. She wore her black-jean knee shorts that were slit at the sides Muay-Thai style, and at her belt were holstered her weapons of choice: two katanas. A mean glint of mischief crossed Cloud's eyes.

"For him, at least. But lessons are always ongoing."

A smirking smile, and Tifa started over to him in a slow, taunting stride.

"A SOLDIER once told me that you can only fight the way you train. You have to practice constantly."

And those two katanas flew from her belt, but they weren't ordinary swords…they were made of wood.

Cloud flashed a mean smile, and his own sword flew to his hands.

"Couldn't agree more."

They rushed akin to a planet exploding, Tifa hitting her swords off the ground to launch herself at Cloud. Her mahogany practice sticks bashed his tungsten blade back at him—she was hitting for flesh not sword. She flew at him with flurrying slip-jabs that he whirled in a windmill arc to deflect. He didn't let up for a second. After all, he'd taught her those moves.

Wedge sat in the bleachers chewing bubblegum when Biggs happened by.

"Man, they're really goin' at it," Wedge commented.

"Naw, they just flirtin. Take notes small fry. Girls love it when you rough'em up."

The agile swords came up in a leap, avoiding Cloud's downward slash, and drew a crossing swipe along the big blade's torso. The Buster Sword came up to draw an X in the air, forcing Tifa to duck and dodge around to Cloud's side. She slipped in with a cross-slice, but found Cloud's sword had followed the momentum around to knock her harmlessly aside.

In a quick flash, Cloud made a cocky play—he sheathed his sword. Tifa charged in, one sword following the other, but Cloud grabbed one wrist then the other and turned her about, wrapping both arms around her and hugging her close to his body. He clutched her in a firm grasp, pinning her arms at her sides and effectively ending the fight.

"You jerk!" she spat. And he laughed.

Then, a slow clap from the gate, and a goateed man in a Zuit-Suit stepped onto the field. He adjusted his RayBands shades and flashed his piece from his belt.

"So sorry. Don't mean to interrupt, but there's  _business_  to attend to."

Back at the tavern, Tifa sat with the man counting out the register and the month's profits. Itemized receipts lay stacked to one side along with payroll and "vegetable spoilage" quotas. Cloud leaned against the wall with his arms folded, while the man looked over their notes and shook his head.

"You're short."

"What?!" Tifa's eyes flew wide.

"By about $1000 gil. Where's the rest?"

"No, the rent is all there! The same amount it was last month."

"It went up."

Cloud and Tifa exchanged urgent glances.

"…We weren't informed."

"Donny didn't tell you?"

"No, we never received any notice. Could you explain the new charges to us?"

"Sure, no problem…Mako prices went up 10% in this past month alone. Ramifications for  _terrorist groups_ …" a sly glance in Cloud's direction, which he returned with a stone glare, "…blowing up reactors around Midgar. Donny's had to dish out personal funds just to keep the lights on in parts of lowcity. It's not like the Urban Dev Department cares much about us down here after all. So, we're not just bleeding you for blood, we're hurting too. Everyone's got to tighten the belts."

"We understand. We're totally willing to comply with the new policies, but we don't have an extra $1000 gil lying around without notice. We've been on time and in full with all payments up until now, could you ask Donny if we could have some leniency?"

"Sure, doll. I'll ask. He's probably just going to tack it onto next month's rent though. Best figure out a way to come up with $2000 more gil on the budget."

"That's almost double the rent! How are we going to do that?"

"I dunno, but look," he leaned in closer to her, "the last bartender who held it down here, lets just say she had her ways of getting the job done."

He pinched her chin with a leering look, and Tifa froze. But Cloud stepped forward with a rage in his eyes and grabbed his wrist.

"We run a clean ship here. We'll get you the money. We're done here."

The man ripped his arm back, standing from the table, and the look he and Cloud exchanged could start forest fires. Cloud's cyan eyes glowed neon in Falselight, a byproduct of Mako Infusion, and the telltale mark of an X-SOLDIER. The man adjusted his lapels then and took his leave, Cloud's piercing glare following him out the door.

But when that door shut, the tension dropped, and all hell broke loose.

"How can this be happening? What are we going to do?" Tifa paced wildly while Cloud took a breath.

"Look, calm down, we'll figure it out."

"WHEN? Tomorrow? In three weeks from now when we have to come up with twice what we can barely manage already?!"

"Why are you yelling at me? It's not like  _I_ did this."

"Oh no, the fact that you're part of some  _terrorist group_ that makes gas prices go up has  _nothing_ to do with this situation right now!"

"Hey! I'm not with them! I just run errands! Give me a break!"

Cloud tried to escape to the other room, but Tifa followed him, not letting up.

"Social gang-banging is still gang-banging, Cloud!"

Cloud jumped up to grab the overhang and did ten pullups. Tifa kept nagging him but Cloud shot back.

"Well thanks for the info Ms. Truth-dot-org. Where'd you pick that one up, off a DARE poster?"

Tifa jumped up after him and did her ten at dead-hang. He kept on her while she ignored him, then jumped down and the fight raged on.

Meanwhile, Wedge sat on the sofa playing referee when Barrett came in.

"What's goin' on here?"

"Landlord upped the rent and Tifa and Cloud are on round 10."

"Oh snaps," Barrett sat down like the playoff's were on. "Who's winning?"

"Tifa's up by 5 points, but Cloud's been returning on the defense, so my money's on him. You in?"

"$10 gil?"

They shook on it.

"Disregard me and how hard I work!" shouted Cloud.

"You don't have a job! I need you to get a job, Cloud!"

"You don't even know what I do! What I go through for all of us!"

"I know you come home late every night for more than just  _business_."

"Oh yeah? Well I remember you sitting on SOLDIER's laps in Nibelheim. Why don't you just saddle up and take Donny's advice?"

Barrett and Wedge's eyes flew wide.  _Ohhhh I can't believe Lil' Mo just went there!_

Tifa's brow curled in a dangerous furrow. She pointed at him with a glare that could end the world, but behind that burning gaze tears began to form.

"Listen. I didn't have a mother, and it's not like you had a father, so why don't you think about that before you call me a slut!"

She stormed away crying, fleeing upstairs to her room. Wedge and Barrett cringed from the couch.

"Eek, KO."

Wedge took out his wallet but Barrett waved him off, telling him to give it to Cloud for flowers he'd inevitably need later.

Cloud stood stunned for a moment, then slammed his fist back against the wall. He slunk back, rubbing his hands through his hair, while a heavy sigh escaped him like all he was in life flooding out. Deep down, a man always knew when he was wrong, and it was worst than a Buster Sword to the balls.

At that, Barrett got up and went over to him.

"Listen Mo, ole Barrett's gotta solution to ya mess. Earth First has been protestin' some new energy bill, and they all riled up to do somethin' bout it. I put out a hit on a Mako Reactor, and the funds'll start pouring in."

"Are you nuts? Then you'd have to actually go blow up a reactor, or else they'll never  _donate_  to your  _cause_  again."

"Thas the whole point brother. You in?"

Cloud took a huge breath, gazing at the floor like he was debating with the devil below.

"…I gotta talk to Tifa."

"She can come too. Two bodies, two cuts. Think it over."

Barrett knocked Cloud's shoulder and left him with an ultimatum hanging like a dead man in his thoughts.

 

[Received 10 Gil]


	4. Red XIII

_Target: Mako Reactor 5  
Time: 2100 Hours_

Two security operators patrolled the rail yard, new sergeants who'd just been bumped up from the enlisted ranks. They paced and cajoled, bored on guard duty, bantering about bullshit that they struggled to hear over the rush of an approaching bullet-train. Then, the sheen of tungsten carbide flashed in their peripherals.

A dark warrior leapt from the train roof, his boots hitting the ground in between the two dumbstruck sentries. A hyperphonic slash from a huge Buster Sword splayed them out facedown on the concrete, the barreling train whipping blonde spikes in the sheerwind wake.

Cloud ran along the platform cat-like scanning for danger. All was an eerie quiet, and the uncanny lack of security near a Reactor site made him uneasy. He leapt around to find two more sentries with rifles up drawing a bead on him, but just a fast he found them splayed out on the ground. A flash of two wooden katanas, and Cloud saw Tifa standing in fighter's stance between the two strewn bodies. He threw her a smile, she flashed him a wink, and together they raced through the null of industrial night toward the towering Reactor facility.

Scattered clutches of guards popped up, and Cloud dispatched them all with Tifa bringing up his flank. When they crossed the drawbridge, he whipped out his phone like a switchblade.

"Barrett, it's all clear."

Barrett and his hired joeboys rendezvoused with Cloud at the drawbridge from a hole in the chainlink fence, two big bruisers and one chick, probably his current squeeze. She eyed Cloud with a hungry look that made him want to take a shower.

The joeboys and their girl got to work on the door, plugging a keybox into the computer console and disabling the security cameras. Then a rainbow-table brute-force hack cracked the access code, and a jammer key glitched the cardslot. The blast door entry lights flashed an alarm for a split second, and then went quiet as the airlock released and the door slid open.

Tifa took a running step, but Cloud's arm shot out to block her.

"Half now!" he ordered Barrett.

"Da hell you mean  _half now_?!"

"Half now, or we don't go in!"

The SOLDIER's cyan eyes glared in gleaming slits. Tifa didn't recognize him. He gripped his hand around her shoulder in a protective clutch, squaring up with a big man and his entourage who all had guns trained on him.

Barrett grunted. "Ballsy move Lil' Mo."

Then he pulled Tifa's full cut from his Carhartt coat pocket. Cloud would get his at the end. Barrett needed his sword.

Satisfied, they ran through stealthy, like ninjas in the night.

Cloud and Tifa raced ahead, perfectly in step with one another. The ebb and flow of the universe seemed to connect them by a thin thread at the hip. They knew each other's movements before they made them. They split at a hallway that blueprints showed would meet up at the main reactor chamber, scanning for enemies and any straggler guards. On Cloud's end, he found nothing, and met up with Tifa at the other end of the facility with Barrett and company in tow. Cloud flashed Tifa handsignals to ask her if she'd found anything—she got that he preferred to talk in visual cues. She shook her head, no one on her end.

_All clear._

The joeboys got to work on the entrance to the main drilling chamber, had it cracked in less than two minutes, and they all filed into a vast antechamber wreathed in pale green light. A central conduit jutted down into a pool of neon ooze that flowed from the lithosphere of the planet itself— _Mako_.

Barrett and his posey set the charge—a bag packed to the brim with Semtex and insulated fertilizer bomblets—and hooked it up to a cellphone trigger. IED's had nothing on this handiwork, fusing different colored wires like a crayon box. They armed the charge, set it against the conduit, and got the hell out of there.

Outside the chamber, three guards ran at them who hadn't been there before. Cloud tri-slashed in an effervescent ring, sending two guards flying in a V pattern, while Barrett went full-auto on the third guy.

"I thought you cleared the area Mo!"

"I did!"

They ran on, but four more leapt out from around a corner, and then four more after them.

"What the hell? Where are they all coming from? It's like they're spawning out of nowhere!"

They took them out ASAP, but two steps later two more appeared.

"Gettin' real tired of all these damn random battles."

Barrett hadn't even finished reloading his arm when two more sentries popped out as if on cue.

"Oh my gaawwwdddddd!"

They took them out, yet again, and ran on, until…

A clutch of ten guards appeared from around a corner like some scene out of a scifi flick about matrices. Cloud and his party ran back through a service door that took them down a cleaning crew corridor. Reactor facilities were vast compounds for technical operations, doubling as freight bays, testing grounds, office space, and laboratories. They ended up in an empty lab with vacant cages stacked along the walls.

However, the lab was not completely empty. Behind a layer of sheet glass in a cylindrical holding canister thrashed a monstrous beast that resembled a cross between a lion and a wolf. The creature was imbued with markings and brands indicating its part in the bioweapons program, and bald spots on its back denoted Materia slots—just like SOLDIER's. It slashed and roared at the glass like freedom was not enough for its insatiable appetite, its glaring eyes making the party members' blood run cold.

But then Tifa caught sight of wires attached to the creature running all the way along the ground to one of the cages stacked by the wall. She hurried over to peer inside, and found—a dog. An emaciated King Shepherd whimpered in the dark, weak and filthy from neglect. Tubes and hypoderms potmarked its body, leeching life energy to the thrashing monster in the glass. The chart pinned to the cage denoted its project name— _RED XIII—_ with the word " _deceased"_ printed next to Reds one through twelve.

"Tifa, let's go!" Cloud called.

"Cloud, we can't leave him!" she panicked while everyone one else prepared to head down another side hallway. Here Cloud learned a lesson about girls in a life-or-death situation: Best friend on two legs vs. Best friend on four legs, two legs loses.

Cloud gave a great groan and slammed his sword into the cage. He dug through the broken metal to collect the mutt in a furry heap, then raced down the hallway after Barrett. Ambling around twists and turns, they finally found their way out to the badlands around the drill site, and backtracked to the train station.

"Mo, there's a dumpster over there. Ditch the mutt, we gotta go!"

"What the hell, man?"

Barrett cocked his arm-cannon at Cloud.

"Gotta catch the train and I need your sword. Aint nobody got time fo'dat."

"Just knock it off!" Tifa jumped in front of Cloud, arms splayed with a piercing glare at the big man. "It'll be alright."

Barrett snorted. "If it ain't, don't expect me to pay ya for it."

"We're wasting time," Cloud shot back. "Let's go."

They hid out behind the station right as the Express Train pulled up. No one got on at these outlying Reactor stops except personnel, and at this hour of night it was dead. Barrett chuckled at that pun running through his mind, fingering a mechanism in his pocket. As the train started away, they all raced to the last supply car and hopped in through the connecting corridor doors.

Canisters and shipping crates lined the interior. Cloud slumped down against the wall with the shepherd wheezing in his arms. The chick still eyed him with a leering look that seemed even more visceral now that Cloud had shown a potential soft spot for animals. One of the joeboys nudged him with an elbow.

"Yo, you gonna fight'im? I know a—"

"No!"

"Sheesh, touchy."

The guy backed off. Cloud's bullshit threshold was officially exhausted.

Barrett eyed the GPS in his good hand with the intensity of a master strategist.

"Game."

He pulled up a menu screen with a single red button.

"Set."

His thumb hovered over the icon like the nuclear launch codes.

"Match."

He pressed the button, and in the distance, the Reactor exploded into hegemony. The combustion shook the train in a nominal quake, and everyone braced against the walls. Barrett let out a mad man's laughter.

"HAH! Score! Notha' one bites the dust! Good game, AVALANCHE! Good game."

Meanwhile Cloud sat slumped against the wall, stroking the red muzzle of a dog crumpled in his lap.

"It's all a game. This is all a fucking game."

 

[Red XIII Joins Party]


	5. Gutter Flower

The dog was a six-month old pup, judging by the way his ears hadn't come up yet. And judging by the way he breathed like a black-lung chimney sweep, he wouldn't make it to seven months.

Tifa tended to him like an infant, bandaging his puncture sites all along his shaved hocks. That lab had bled him so dry that he should have had a blood transfusion. There were no vets this side of lowcity.

She laid him down on Cloud's bed in the basement, trying to get him to take food and water. Cloud didn't even have a say in the matter. He was banished to the sofa upstairs.

"Hah and you the one who rescued that red mongrel!" Barrett ribbed.

Cloud thought with a morbid knot of realism that he'd only be out a bed for one night, but in the morning when he felt bursts of warm, smelly breath right on his face, be blinked twice. The big red dog stood with nose inches from Cloud, chuffing to wake him up.

"What the?" Cloud muttered, and the dog wiggled in excitement. Healthy as a horse. Cloud saw that he held a rope in his mouth. "You like, almost died, and you want a walk,  _now_?"

The dog could barely contain his excitement, wriggling his body from side to side while Cloud's eyes peeled to slits. He grabbed the rope, but the dog  _pulled_ with a great playful growl, dragging Cloud straight off the couch.

"Good lord!" Cloud yelled flopped on the ground, while the dog dropped the rope, pranced into the kitchen, and brought a huge bowl in his mouth. Cloud sighed.

The big red beast's back came up past Cloud's hips—and he was still a puppy! He had some wolf in him, maybe some Malamute in there somewhere as well, but the red Shepherd was unmistakable.

"C'mere Red, get at my heel. Are you trained?"

The dog came straight up to Cloud, who threw some kitchen scraps in the bowl.

"Sit!"

Red stood still.

"Lay down."

Still nothing.

"Roll over…do the Macarena…go make me a sandwich…"

Nothing.

"Okay, stay!"

Red stood there.

"Good boy!"

Cloud gave him the bowl, Red finished it in seconds. The thing ate them nearly out of house and home.

Out by the back porch, Red hugged Cloud's leg every step of the way tripping him up. Clingy bastard.

"Here Red, go fetch!" Cloud threw a stick and Red  _dashed_ after it at the speed of light. Literally, one second he was there, the next, vanished in a blur of fur.

 _What the hell_ ,  _Dash Materia!_

Red came back with the trunk of a sapling in his mouth, roots dangling on the ground. Cloud slumped halfway to the ground.

Red indeed had a Materia slot, byproduct of the lab. But Cloud couldn't get the ability orb out, nor could he replace it with anything useful. All the dog could do was run fast, and now Cloud couldn't even get the orb out for his own slots on his sword. Lovely.

"What the hell am I going to do with a  _dog_?" Cloud thought out loud, while Red just sat there scratching his ear. A though occurred to him then, something one of Barrett's thugs had said on the train.

"Hmm, fighting eh?" Cloud grabbed a huge chain that he used for his motorcycle. "Come on, Red. Let's go for walkies!"

The mutt jumped up and down like a deer next to Cloud with a huge chain looped around his neck.

They walked down through Sector 6, still AVALANCHE territory. The tribal tattoo around Cloud's left arm granted him safe passage, depending on where he walked. The edge of Sector 5 however was not somewhere someone with his tattoo wanted to walk. They crossed over into Triad territory.

The neighborhood was just as scuzzy as the next, a shanty-town with sheet metal roof-huts iconic of lowcity Slums. A wall with a hole blown through it marked the entrance to the "Wall Market." Cloud walked through here all the time, with long sleeves.

It didn't take them long to notice they had shadows—thugs on all sides, walking in step with Cloud, tattoos of interlocking triangles. Cloud's adrenaline shot up as the circle got smaller. Finally, someone stepped in front of him.

"You lost kid?"

"No," Cloud responded.

"Who you lookin' for?"

"No one." A cocky streak flared in Cloud's spine, so unlike his quiet personality. He had to kick this up a notch. "But your mom's pussy will do."

 _That_ did it. Weapons shot out all around him. Cloud cringed afterwards at himself, where had that come from? Now he felt disgusting, like he deserved whatever came his way now. But some evil flash shoved those feelings aside like a huge hand, and Cloud flashed a mean smile like a hunter at play. Dropping the chain in his hand, he almost felt  _bad_ for the thugs in front of him.

"Alright Red, sick'em!"

He looked over to find the big red dog lifting his leg on a fire hydrant, and slumped halfway to the ground.

Then the weapons came at him, and Cloud's Buster Sword flew to his hand.

He upslashed two coming at him, one after the other, then jump-spun to throw everyone back. One thug rushed in a downward scimitar swing. Cloud diverolled out of the way, coming up into a sweeping arc-slash that beat the thug's scimitar clear out of his hands. A flowing down-bash knocked him to the ground unconscious. He slip-parried away from the thug's swipe that followed behind him. A monumental powerslash sent the guy flying back into his buddies, splaying all of them across the ground. They were just border guards anyway.

The thugs picked each other up, threw arms over shoulders, and hi-tailed it out of there. Cloud staggered back, sweat dripping from his brow, and drove his sword into the ground. Slumping down cross-legged, heaving great gasping breaths, he peeled his eyes to slit and  _talked_ to the hunk of tungsten carbide in front of him.

"Hi Sword. My name's Cloud. I'm 5'9 and weigh 150lbs. Looks like we already have something in common."

Cloud ran a hand through his hair. He really sucked at these heart-to-hearts.

"Look, I know your last master was like a Space Marine, Angeal was the size of a refrigerator after all, but I'm like an ice-chest, and my back hurts. I'm  _not_ saying you're fat, you're beautiful. It's just that I'd rather not be swinging around my body-weight all the time. Is there some way you could, I dunno…lose weight? For me?"

With hand clasped in begging prayer, he waited like he actually thought something was going to happen. After a long moment of silence, he slumped his shoulders. Then, a thin ray of light streaked across the blade, running down through the crevasses that locked like puzzle pieces in the cured metal. Cloud froze, and in a flash, the sword broke into seven floating shards that hovered around him in a circle. He leapt up, taken aback, seven more swords flew around him like a weapon menu screen.

"Haha!" he laughed elated, eyes popping out of his sockets. "Wow, did Angeal know his sword could do this? Probably not!"

The Fusion Swords hovered in chaotic dissonance as Cloud chose one that fit his own size better.

_Buster Sword, meet the Stunner Blade._

This would be the blade Cloud selected to fight with, until another suited him.

Satisfied with his choice, the other swords fused back into the Buster Sword as Cloud slung it back over his shoulder. It even felt lighter.

"I guess when I want to fight, I just pick the sword I want."

A triumphant nod, and Cloud lead Red through the Wall Market to finish their walk. It was a shortcut out of Sector 5 anyway.

The market place buzzed with scuzzy life, slum kids running and dealers dealing. Stands and kiosks sported anything a buyer could possibly want, from weapon upgrades to armor insets and healing potions. A scalper sold fake tickets to some play about a canary, and real tickets to the play that had its own avenue above the Plate;  _Loveless._

Then, Red lurched his chain out of Cloud's grasp and ran across the street.

"Hey, Red!" Cloud ran after him, but the dog didn't go far. He slowed to a trot at a merchant's blanket splayed on the ground, and stepped over arrangements of flowers to go to the seller. Cloud found a girl in a white cloak with indigo trim like airstreams seated cross-legged on the blanket, her hand stroking the red dog's long muzzle to calm him. Cloud grabbed the chain and yanked him back.

"Sorry." He said. She didn't utter a word.

" _These gypsies are the problem_ ," someone muttered behind him in passing. " _Don't encourage panhandlers."_

He saw that Red had trampled a lot of her flowers, leaving petals strewn out on the old picnic blanket. But she did not protest, instead she caught him staring at her bouquets.

"A flower for someone special?" she spoke in a soft monotone like sad music. "One dozen for one dozen."

Cloud just stood dumbstruck, entranced as if some spell had ensnared him. After a long moment, he spoke in a similar monotone.

"Uh…I would, but there's no one special in my life."

She stood up then, lithe and illusive, arced to one side like a flowing brush stroke in that sable white cloak.

"Well, perhaps just one, for a SOLDIER."

She plucked a single marigold from a bouquet and offered it to him, outstretched arm like a sweeping ivy vine in the cool dusty breeze. Her hood pulled low, he couldn't see her eyes, but a tress of auburn hair flecked out from under her cowl. His hand moved on its own, some otherworldly force lifting his arm for him to take her flower. His fingers brushed hers for the swiftest moment, sending a jolt through the core of his being like the familiar warm feeling of going home. He fumbled in his pocket for a gil and gave it to her, unable to take his eyes off her. She was just a gypsy girl.

There was nothing left to be done, so he gave her a nod and walked on, pulling his red dog at his heel. The feeling of eyes on his back swept the curve of his neck, and he glanced over his shoulder. She was walking out into the middle of the avenue in a slow stride, eyes still hidden under the tuck of a white cowl, but fixed on him with a sense other than sight.

He felt her, a deep connection that stirred in his darkest core. It scared him. He shuffled on, tugging at Red's chain.

Meanwhile, downturned eyes remained transfixed on a tungsten Buster Sword.

 

[Received Fusion Blades]


	6. Gondola

Saturday night, and the Seventh Heaven was hopping!

The cheapest beer this side of the Community College brought party animals from all over the Slums to their bar, and summer time meant they'd opened the back doors as well. A girl named Arianna was hired to dance and she was putting on one hell of a show. Tifa was bartending with Wedge barbacking, while Cloud ran Seamless orders until Happy Hour when they'd need a second man on the tap.

"Yo Mo!" Barrett grabbed Cloud on his way out the door with an order. "Drop this off for me, will ya? It's a—"

"Barrett, I don't want to know what it is, just as long as it's not children."

"You funny brother. Real funny. You know I gots a kid, right?"

"Whatever you say, man."

"I do! My lil girl in the 1st Grade now!"

"Where is she?"

"Baby-mama-drama. Tellin' ya Cloud, don't ever fuck a white woman. They take you for all you're worth and then city give'em the kids!"

"Uh, I'll keep it in mind."

"Good man. My Aryan Nigga."

"You know I'm not Aryan, right?"

"You's a shade too light for the NAACP brotha."

"I'm half-Native, Lakota, on my mother's side."

"Well damn me, my Apache Chief brotha! Call me Geronimo and pass the peyote! " And Barrett passed Cloud a package.

Happy Hour rolled around and Cloud jumped behind the bar to help Tifa out. Wedge was using a measuring cup to mix a drink. Cloud took it from him and mixed it by eyeballing it faster.

"You'll get your shot Little Man, don't worry."

Arianna had the college crowd going. Legally dancers weren't allowed to go topless if alcohol was being served, but this side of lowcity no one gave a damn. Ari's top flew halfway across the dance floor. Barrett was supposed to check ID's at the door—half the crowd looked like they were about fourteen. A fight broke out at the other end of the floor. Tifa leapt over the bar and hockey-checked one brawler to the ground, then bull-wrestled the other out the door.

"Barrett! What the hell do I pay you for!" she yelled as she went back to bartending.

Even the dog wasn't completely useless. They tied the tip jar to Red's neck. He sat with a cute, stupid expression on his face while girls pet him and made their boyfriends drop gil in his jar. Score.

By last call, they kicked all the kids making out on the back wall out the door and swept the bathrooms of people getting it on quick-and-dirty. No shame. They all sat down at a table to count the earnings with exhausted slumps.

"Well, we're just short of half," said Tifa. "If we hustle for the next week, maybe we'll actually make rent and keep our skins too."

At that, the stripper pulled a wad of cash out of her bra.

"Here Ladies, this'uns from me, since you're all kind enough to let me work."

"No hun, you keep your tips, we need more than that anyway. How's school?"

"Blows. I'm stuck in all these classes that don't have anything to do with my major, and I'm wasting loads of time and money going nowhere."

"What are you studying?" asked Cloud. But Ari just scoffed at the ceiling.

"Tsh, at this point, hell if I know. I'm just glad my mother doesn't know about this gig yet. She's been in the hospital all week and the heart-attack she'd take if she found out would probably do her in. I mean, I don't turn tricks anymore, but I feel you about rent getting paid."

"You know," Cloud started, "we have a job in the kitchen. Doesn't pay much but it's steady."

"Thanks babe, I make more money doing this though. You guys sure you're all gonna be okay?"

"We'll make it work, somehow," Tifa assured her, then passed her another $20 gil. "And here's for your mother. Hope she feels better."

"Thanks doll. You guys take care of yourselves. Call me next weekend if you can."

The bar was closed for patrons but apparently not for friends, as Barrett had a clutch of homeboys out back by the barbeque getting ribs going.

"Yo! Tifs! Apache! Git out here and git some meat!"

Barrett seared the ribs with the flamethrower of his arm-cannon, cajoling with people that didn't look like thugs for a change.

"Cloud, Tifa, this is my Aunt Sarah, my step-mother Rose, my grand-uncle Patches, my cousin Lawrence, my niece Abigail…"

He went on introducing a clutch of family and distant relatives. Barrett actually had family! They seemed like a semi-normal Slum clan, one foot in and out of the gangs, half of the old generation just bantering over beer about the good ole' days and playing a harmonica.

Barrett came over to Cloud with another package.

"This one's for you Mo, my appreciation for all you do for Ole' Barrett. Bottoms up."

Cloud pulled the paper bag off of a vintage bottle of Bacchus' Brew…That stuff was so illegal!

"Barrett, holy hell, how did you—"

"You just take it easy Lil' Mo. Ole' Barrett's gotcha back. And we gon' make the rent and don't you worry about nuthin."

He clapped Cloud on the shoulder with his good hand, and then went back to grilling with his family. Here was a man who'd held a gun to his head more than a few times now getting his back, and cajoling with the very reason he was so hard on everyone in first place. Cloud cocked his brow, seeing the big thug of a man in an altered light.

Tifa meanwhile took the bottle with a wry look in her eye.

"Well, shot glass?" Cloud asked.

"Pfft," Tifa scoffed, undoing the quark with a leatherman on her belt. "You're such a bantam weight."

Then she took a pull straight from the bottle and shoved it into his chest.

" _Bantam weight_!?" Cloud exclaimed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Why don't you take a shot like a man already and find out."

_Ohhh_ , a challenger indeed. Cloud took his pull, and felt a warm tingling sensation creep throughout his body.

"Whoa… _whoa…_ No wonder this stuff is illegal. I feel completely different!"

"Like how?"

"I don't know. I really don't even understand. I feel like I've had a religious experience or something."

Tifa played with the end of her fishtail and muttered off to the side. "Teh, that church school you went to finally made a dent."

"What?"

"Huh?"

"Did you say something?"

"No. Nothing. Nevermind."

Barrett and family hollered at the top of their lungs over something that only they would find funny. Cloud just looked over at Tifa with a spark that hadn't been there before.

"Hey, wanna get out of here? Let's go crash the drive-in."

A smile, so slight and sure, and he extended his hand. Tifa stood stunned for a moment, like she wasn't sure who was standing in front of her. Then, she held her breath and took his hand.

They headed out to the abandoned parking lot where Slum-bags brought dates to do dirty things, while a huge impromptu projector flashed a drive-in movie from the top of some old geezer's RV. The guy had been putting on movies for kids for well on thirty years, claimed to be some veteran from a war with Shinra that no one remembered. Bless his heart. Tonight, an old taping of Transformers played while Cloud and Tifa sat on top of a brick wall for lack of a vehicle.

"Do you like it?" Tifa asked fifteen minutes in.

"What the hell am I watching?"

"You said this was your favorite movie, once."

Cloud scratched his head.

"…Was I high?" Tifa laughed at that, but Cloud wouldn't let it go. "No seriously, I would have to be a colossal idiot with bacon for brains to garner even a shred of enjoyment from this stupid movie."

"Wow, you're even talking differently."

"I am?"

"Don't worry about it. We should do this more often."

"We should. Why don't we?"

And she just sat there stunned. He was looking at her. He actually expected an answer. She couldn't hold his eye-contact, and felt her face getting hot.

Yet another big explosion from the screen, and Cloud rolled his eyes.

"C'mon."

He hopped off the wall and reached up to help her down. She almost couldn't breathe. Who was this person? Two hands on her waist, he caught her on her way down, and hand-in-hand he lead her away like he had an idea where to go.

An old carnival lay abandoned next to the baseball stadium. Cloud and Tifa jumped the fence and hopped on the Gondola. Cloud reached his sword out the window and flipped the lever, and together they rose over the empty arena. He hit the emergency stop switch midway, and they dangled in the air away from the eyes of the world.

"Now if only there was a game going on," Tifa teased.

"Pfft, yeah. We'd get to watch people run around in a circle for no reason," Cloud quipped in reply.

She looked at him then with an amazed smile. He hated sports now too!

"I know what we can watch," and she flipped out her phone, pulling up YouTube on her Samsung brick. Together they sat enthralled and giggling, watching Bill Nye the Science Guy do jumping jacks and tell brainy jokes. Side by side, their shoulders were touching as the show explained the inner-workings of the human nervous-system, and a transhumanistic theory of brain-transplanting.

"This is actually possible, you know," Cloud added. "I read somewhere that Shinra successfully transplanted neurons from a host spinal cord into a donor spinal cord, enabling the subject to take on the host's memories. And also inversely, they were able to cure paraplegia by transplanting donor nerve cords back into the host's spinal column, allowing the test subject to walk again."

"That's amazing!"

"Yeah. Too bad Shinra just turned it into a bioweapons project. Looks like that's what went down with poor Red."

"He's safe now, though. He probably doesn't remember. Thank you for rescuing him for me."

"Pfft, who says I did it for  _you_?"

"You quit it," she slapped his arm.

"Sorry," and that arm went around her shoulder without missing a beat. He wasn't even nervous, draping it like it belonged there. She just gazed up at him, worlds swirling in her eyes, while his were cool and still.

"You do feel different," she said, and he thought for a moment.

"Heh, yeah. I guess I do."

Now she was stunned, and hid a bright smile as hard as she could.

"Hey Cloud? Could you do me a favor?" And he furrowed his brow in question. "Could you take your earrings off?"

"You don't like them?"

"It's just…they seem so, not you."

"Why didn't you say something earlier? I won't wear them anymore."

"You'd do that…just because I said so?"

He promptly removed the two silver studs and dropped them in his pocket with a shrug.

"I don't really know why I got them done anyway. Seemed like a good idea at the time."

Now she couldn't hold his gaze, so steady and confident. She held her eyes on the cellphone screen, but could feel his eyes still on her. She glanced up, she was right, and glanced down. But this time, his hand caught her chin, and pulled her face to his lips. Soft breath brushed her mouth as she gasped, his sweet kiss, warm and steady and shooting her heart rate sky-high. For a moment, just a moment, they were connected, and when they finally broke, she sat frozen in his arms.

"That was long overdue," he whispered to her smile, and went in for another.

But then, the Gondola lurched. They looked out to see security guards below at the carnival reeling them back in.

"Oh snap, oh snap. Here, get on!" Cloud ushered her onto his back.

"Wait! What are we doing?"

"Jump Materia. Hang on!"

She threw her arms around his neck, and they leapt out the Gondola from high in the air. He landed cat-like in the stadium and grabbed her hand.

"Run, hurry!"

They booked it all the way back to the bar, stumbling with arms around each other. They barreled in as quiet as they could in their steel-toed combat boots, cringing as the floors wailed and complained underfoot. Tifa grabbed Cloud's arm, not giving him a choice, and pulled him upstairs in a mad rush, like they were still being chased. He stumbled up after her, obeying.

Into her room, dark and silent, she held him against the closed door. His arms flowed around her like ribbons, brushing her lithe shoulders and strong back. But they teased under her shirt collar, tittering on the skin of her neck and collar, as if asking permission to go lower. Now the frantic pace slowed down, and their hearts sped up. She knew what he wanted…her shirt slid over her head.

He stood enamored in her purity, cool white skin unveiled to him. His hands caressed her lean stomach, ran over her ribs to clutch ample handfuls of breasts. She gasped, halfway in elation but a squeak of pain snuck in there, and Cloud noticed something—white surgery scars running across her nipples and mammary tissue. Breast reduction, why had she done that? He loved every part of her, and now a tinge of grief crossed his heart, the botched procedure she'd undergone at a black clinic caused her pain to his intimate touch. He loosened his tight grip on her rounded breasts, and took one into his mouth, kissing in a luscious sweep that eased her pain. Succulent warmth filled her, he brushed his tongue over firm nipples, suckling her like honey and buttermilk, vanilla extract sliding in and out of his lips. Her knees gave way into him, crying in sheer sensation. He lapped at the jagged scars across her voluptuous mounds, the same scars she saw that crisscrossed his own arms.

He let his sword fall to the ground, and his pants followed at her insistent hands. Before he knew what was happening, she was on her knees, lips sliding over his erection to pierce the back of her throat. Wetness constricted him, slick tongue caressing his glands, sucking on his head as if to pull him out of his own body. She played with the fold of skin that drove him crazy, and he cried, letting his own fingertips pinch her nipples as hard as he could. He couldn't help it, her teeth hurt him in a way that shot fire through his groin. He loved it. He felt her tongue circling his shaft in luscious salivating whirls, and he lost control, moaning softly to the dark ceiling. His hands shook from clutching her nipples in a deathgrip, he didn't know how she could take it, but as her teeth bit down in little nips on his head, and the tip of her tongue invaded his urethra like she was trying to enter him, he couldn't take it anymore.

He grabbed her hair—he didn't mean to—and drove himself into her mouth, all the way to her tonsils, entering her in a way that made her dig her nails into his thigh. He grinded against her jaw, pushing on the back of her head, driving into her until his thighs bled from her grip. A solid nine inches filled her entire throat, stretching the back of her tight thorax, while his other hand still twisted on her nipple like he was trying to rip it off. When he saw her hands pulling her own pants off, his body flipped an on-switch. It was go-time.

He lifted her up, pushing her back toward the bed, under the covers naked as the day they were born. He struggled to find her, a hand shoving a determined finger up into her vulva to make her moan in agony, and then another. It helped him guide his shaft up into her tight vagina, and slide up into her past the full stretch of her womb. A sweet sandpaper brush of her labia welcomed him, tightening around his circumcised neck, rippling in waves that agitated him. It was like her body was twisting on him in a way that sent testosterone flooding to his member, filling him with power-hungry lust, subconsciously making him drive into her with a feral need over a million years old.

Then, cool waters, soft elation connected them in solipsism. Her sweet cries as he drove his tongue down her throat, over her neck, lapping her breasts like candy while he arched his hips and filled her. Now their hearts beat as one, he pressed himself to her like he couldn't be close enough, like inside her wasn't deep enough. Weeping semen into her like his shaft was crying to be part of her, he sighed into her ear words that came from his soul.

"Your face…It kept me going."

He didn't know what he meant, he didn't know why he was saying these things. All he knew was that suddenly he had the unshakable urge to get this girl a fridge full of food, get her some health insurance, get her a house, but most importantly…get her a ring.

Stretching the lines of her labia so far that they bled a little, he shot a sea of hot foam against her fascia, so full and strong that he moaned as it leaked out onto the sheets, cumming in bursts like a fire hose. Safety brazing the back of his mind, he pulled out and let the rest of himself spurt onto her stomach, shooting hot semen across her chest, sputtering droplets of sperm onto her chin and lips. Her head thrown skyward and mouth moaning in ecstasy, her body arched up to receive him, as a sacred holy offering she gave herself to him.

And so he stayed locked in her holy embrace, until the moonlamps went out at dawn, and he fell asleep in the arms of his angel. Entangled in her limbs, black flyaways brushing his face from her frizzed fishtail...he dreamt of auburn hair.

 

[Received Elixir]


	7. Honey Bee

Cloud woke up in phases. First he was aware that light hurt his eyes, then he was aware that his eyes hurt like a thousand Cactaur needles. Then, Ice Materia straight to his brain—his head pounded like an Adamantoise kicked him in the cranium.

Rolling over with a groan, the second thing he noticed was that he wasn’t in his room, and then he saw Tifa naked next to him.

_He freaked._

“Holy Sh—“ he shot upright.

“Hey,” she threw a drowsy smile up at him.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, um, um.”

“What’s wrong?” she sat up now too. But he jumped out of bed wrapping a sheet around his waist.

“Oh god, we hooked up didn’t we?”

“ _Hooked up_? What the hell is wrong with you?”

She got up out of bed after him, but he averted his eyes. He threw his hands up harmless and stammering.

“Look, Tifa, we were drunk—“

“You had one shot!” She bore into him with shocked eyes. “Don’t you remember what you said to me? Don’t you remember anything? Don’t you care?”

Cloud just stood there frozen, speechless like she’d shoved a wad of cotton in his mouth. He tried to speak, couldn’t speak, couldn’t even breathe. A flash of pain crossed her eyes, a sharp dagger into his heart. She grabbed her clothes in a bundle and ran out of the room crying.

Dazed. He still wasn’t sure what had happened. His heartrate skyrocketed, he clutched at the side of his head. He didn’t feel like himself, nothing was right, and if his brain didn’t explode from the jabbing pain he was going to kill himself.

He grabbed his pants, patting the pockets. What did he need? He needed something in the worst way, something that would make his heart stop pounding. Then, he found his earrings, put them back on, and instantly he could breathe. Now, he felt like himself again. Now he could think about what had happened, how he ended up like this…but nothing came.

It was still the weekend. The bar would be rushed tonight almost as crazy as the previous night. This was bad.

Tifa avoided him all day, and when they jumped behind the bar together, she couldn’t look at him. He pretended like nothing happened, talking to her in an emotionless monotone. Short sentences with no eye contact slit her like scorpion tails. Everyone who worked there glanced at them sidelong and then looked away. Everyone knew…something went _down._

Happy hour, and the evening rush descended like slathering wild beasts. They were slammed _worse_ than Saturday. Wedge played barback, busboy, runner _and_ dishwasher while Tifa took point at the bar.

“This is a Jack and Coke. I asked for a Jack and Gin!”

“Sorry.” Tifa took the guy’s drink and mixed him another.

“Hey, you heard of this new thing called _service_?” someone heckled her.

“Yo! We’ve been waiting so long my niece became a grandmother!”

“Hey, forget that round of shots. We’re leaving.”

“ _Hel-loooo?”_

Tifa dropped a Long Island Iced Tea all over the bar, then ran back into the kitchen sobbing. Cloud grabbed Wedge and threw him at the tap.

“Your time to shine, Wedge!” Then Cloud ran into the kitchen after Tifa.

He found her sobbing against the wall and threw his hands up.

 _“_ What’s wrong?!”

“I can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t.”

“You have to!”

“I CAN’T!”

“What is your problem?”

“I can’t just be next to you like this! I can’t take it. I’m so hurt, I can’t believe this!”

“Nothing happened! Forget about it!”

“No!”

“Tifa, they’re going to kill us! Don’t you understand? If we don’t make quota, we’re going to freaking die! I need you to suck it up!”

“I can’t do it!”

“Please!”

She just cried in uncontrollable gasps. Now Cloud realized that she really was incapacitated, out for the count…the count!

“Tifa,” he grabbed her by shoulders and shook her. “TIFA! Count backwards, slow, _for me_.”

She tried, he could tell she was trying, but she just broke down in choking, shaking sobs. She was down and out, and now they were a man down during Happy Hour. He had to do something, anything, fast!

“…We’ll close the bar tonight. You and me. Just us.”

She stopped crying enough to look up at him. Was he serious? He bore into her with a stone gaze that could take a life. He wasn’t taking it back. She got her bearing enough to stand up straight.

“Alright?” he asked, and she took a deep breath and nodded. “C’mon.”

He cupped her shoulder and they rushed back out. She jumped into go-mode while he relieved Wedge at the tap.  

“Let’s go, kid. Faster, faster. Hustle up!”

“Hoorah, boss.”

They ran rampant like battle-bots, whizzing through chores in robot-like precision, until Last Call came like a factory whistle and they sat down to count the register. Gil stacked on the table, tips thrown back into the pile, personal money emptied from wallets, Tifa sat back with a forlorn expression on her face.

“…We didn’t make quota.”

A communal slump followed, like the whole world hung its head. Cloud just got up and stormed into the back. He didn’t want anyone to see him rubbing his eyes.

With nothing left to be done, she cleaned up and sent everyone home. Wedge gave her $10 and said it was from Cloud, and Barrett put his good hand on her shoulder before heading downstairs.

“Wasn’t yer fault, girl.”

She thanked him with a deep breath. Alone, the bar seemed dead in the empty quiet, so distinct from the mad rush of post-labor lamentations. She stowed away into the back, where the lights had been flicked off.

She found him in the back corridor by the cooler, leaning listless against the wall. When he saw her, he stood and faced her with all that he was as a man, a look of despair in his eyes. She went to him, and took his hand, and he pulled her into a slow, soft embrace. The brush of his strong hand against her face, nuzzling against her butterfly cheeks, the scent of salt and spirits calmed the beasts inside him. A hesitant gasp that they both shared, and they let it happen, a slow kiss that wrapped them in a flowing, aural flame. Most girls don’t understand how men can separate love and sex. It’s easy. If there’s nothing there, then there’s nothing to separate. But if there is…

Into her arms he fell that night, wrapped in her harmonic embrace. The scent of lavender and wool sheets brought calm to his chaos, and the flush of pheromones on skin set him on fire. She cried as his hips pressured hers, laying into her with the weight of his entire being. All he was in life, flowing into her like soft light, slowly fading into blue null. They burned for each other like nothing in life was more hallowed. His trembling arms wrapped around her like ropes, tying her in a spiritual knot to his soul. He held her fast against the dying night.

But he didn’t fall asleep next to her. He lay awake with her head nestled in the bend of his arm, gazing out into distant nowhere. She looked so beautiful now, illusive calm under flowing lashes wrapped in a frizz of ravenhair. Yet her rapture couldn’t quell his storm, brining like a hurricane behind glowing cyan eyes. Like a ghost, he left her there to sleep alone, and stole out into the muggy dark of Midgar’s silent night.

He strolled along the dark avenues in neutral territory, kicking bits of rock and refuse with his steel-toed lug sole. His body fought him, told him to turn back, to go to her. Yet his heart assailed him with guilt, like he’d somehow been…unfaithful. To whom? A chaotic swarm in the core of his being sent him spiraling in mind and body, and he leaned against the wall of the alley with eyes turned toward a non-existent sky. No longer could he deny himself, the terror that gripped him in stillness. He was falling for his best friend.

Distant, and sad, he whispered out into the null of hazy dark.

“You can’t fall in love with me. Not because you’re sad, or lonely, or because I’m the only man you’re close to. You can’t love me like a fire escape. I can’t save anyone, I can’t be your hero. Don’t fall for me just because you can talk to me, even though I love talking to you. I don’t even know what you see in me. I’m selfish and reckless and I hate small children. I’m a wreck and a wretch. I don’t even know who I am anymore. Don’t choose me, find someone who deserves you. If you go with me, there’s a fifty percent chance that this won’t work out. I piss you off so much already, and you know what, I want to. Sometimes I piss you off just to see you catch fire. I love your energy. It makes me feel alive. If you leave now, you’ll be sad for a while, but if you stay, you’ll be sad for a lifetime. We’ll slow dance off the Plate and fall from the sky. We’ll crash and burn until the world ends. We’ll watch the sun explode and always wonder why. Don’t leave me in the dark. Don’t let me leave you in darkness. Run away from me while you’re still filled with light. Until I can love myself, please, don’t say you love me.”

The quiet dark of an alleyway stoked his words, snuffing him out in muffled candlelight. He slammed his head back against the wall and yelled to the durasteel Plate above.

“Send me a sign!”

And silence.

Nothing stirred for a long time, until the trilling of shuffling feet echoed in the alley. Light footsteps like dancing shoes scampered in the gravel, and Cloud looked over to see a street crawler. A young girl with a side-ponytail of strawberry hair leered past him like she was mocking him.

“Slow night, huh? Fancy bartending this side of the Slums.”

Cloud shot up.

“You know me?” he asked with urgency.

“Sugar. I know everyone in lowcity.”

And she danced a pirouette like a whimsical faerie. He stood stone and stoic.

“Are you a sign?”

“Maybe. Depends on what you’re looking for.”

“I’m looking for answers.”

“Then I can help. Come with me.”

Cloud hesitated as she started away.

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t. Silly. That’s half the fun.”  

She skipped down the alley, and some dark warning in his heart told him to run away. Yet, his feet moved on their own, and he followed.

She lead him down a labyrinthine row of sidestreets, to the lee side of the Wall Market that technically bordered Sector 6. There was nothing here, for anyone who didn’t know what they were looking for, just a bunch of storage units with pull-down gates and the backs of Slum storefronts.  

“ _They won’t let me in_ ,” some passerby complained to a companion. “ _I don’t got no membership.”_

Cloud swallowed a lump in his throat and followed her toward a closed storefront, where a huge man hung outside with crossed arms. Loiterers lingered smoking and talking, something was off about this place. She trotted up to the big man and flashed him a wink, then waved to Cloud to follow her. But two steps away from the man, he shot Cloud a glare.

“No swords.”

“Um…”

“Leave it outside.”

Cloud couldn’t think. Then again, it’s not like anyone could really steal his sword anyway, and if they somehow managed to, he figured they deserved it. He took a nervous breath, unclipped his sword and leaned it against the side wall. Alarm sirens went off in his whole body. He strode through the entryway.

Inside was a raging party. Rocktronic embolisms blared through backwalls of speakers, and all around people danced in swaying symphonic revue dressed in trashy, striped lingerie like bees. He caught up with her and called into her ear.

“Where are we?”

“Honey, we’re at the Bee.”

She took him by the hand, and pulled him back toward lounge tables with donut-shaped red-leather seating. Shoving him into one before he had a chance to protest, she climbed over into his lap while taking something out of her miniskirt pocket. Cloud couldn’t see it well, though something told him it was a derm, but before he could get a word out, it was on her tongue which was simultaneously shoved down his throat.

Instantaneously, his vision was monochrome.

_Dancer._

Her luscious tongue swept over his like candy canes. She tasted like music would taste. Cloud felt his body become weightless, his erection was rock and electrified. She ran her tongue across his teeth and pulled away from his dreamy smile. A wink, a giggle, and she darted away. He leapt up after her.

Weaving through the throng of partiers, he caught up with her against the back wall. Pressing himself against her, he groped a palm over a silken breast as she slipped a hand into his back pocket. He could tell she was fumbling for his wallet— _wrong pocket, girl—_ so she massaged him as he ground his hips into her. Another kiss, but she bit his lip with a giggle. Then she slipped away like a spirit, and Cloud saw a sea of neon foxtails flood his vision from the dance floor.

But then the world went sideways, and nauseating vertigo hit. He stumbled back into a corner, then saw the facilities to his right. He ducked into the Men’s room figuring to splash water on his face.

Inside was a graffiti nightmare. The black bold tagging moved on its own in his eyes like ants crawling on the walls. Stalls with broken doors lay on his left. At least he was alone. He took a leak at the urinal and almost flipped when he saw he was pissing blood. _Side effect_ , he told himself. Temporary.

Staggering to the scummy sink, he tried the faucet to find that the pipes were turned off. Looking up into the scratch-marred mirror, he saw someone who looked just like him standing behind him.

“Oh Sh—!” Cloud whipped around. “Scared me.”

A boy of about sixteen with blonde spikes for hair and piercing blue eyes stood before him, training a hard gaze on Cloud like he knew better than him. Cloud took a few deep breaths and ran a hand down his face. He noted the olive-drab uniform with the military emblem patch on his shoulder.

“ _Shinra Guard_. Haven’t seen your kind in a while. You with the Infantry?”

The kid gave a slow nod and spoke to cloud in a low monotone.

“I was…like you.”

Cloud leaned back against the counter, trying to get a handle on the high. Sweat pooled on his brow, while a reminiscing look crossed his face.

“You got the wrong guy. I was never Infantry. I was SOLDIER.”

“And now you’re at a brothel on drugs. Is this what honor means to SOLDIER now?”

A scoff, and he leaned back on his arms.

“Someday you’re gonna learn that honor is something made up by people in power to get you to do what they want without paying you.”

“That’s not what you were taught.”

“Really? Alright then, smart guy, what do you know about honor?”  

“I know it’s the one thing you have that no one can ever take away.”

“HAHAHAHA!” Cloud laughed so hard he _spun around_! Ended up halfway across the restroom clutching his sides.

“Why are you laughing?” asked the boy with the same stern look on his face. Cloud got a grip and faced him with a stern look of his own, one that could put any _Shinra Guard_ down.  

“Kid, they can take everything away from you! Your life, your friends, your family, even your own name! Go ask a hobo about honor, see where it got him. Look at where we’re living, the slum kids selling themselves for slag, the urchins spreading filth, the gangs, the cronies, the garbage overflowing onto the people who make houses out of it, and the dead bodies in the dumpsters instead of in graves. This isn’t just some videogame. You can’t just reset/reload. Time to grow up. Welcome to the Slums!”

But the boy _rushed up_ to Cloud.

“This isn’t you! You’re better than this! The people who taught you wanted more for you and they’re ashamed of you now!”

“Hey! Angeal was a great man, and he’s dead now! They’re all dead!”

“You’re still alive! You still have a chance!”

“Fuck off!”

“Wake up!”

He _shoved_ Cloud back against the wall. Cloud stumbled in a rage, got his bearing, and swung a hard fist straight at the kid’s face. He slammed into a bathroom stall door.

“Wait… _whuh?”_

No one was there. The bathroom was…empty.

“The hell?...Where the hell did he go?”

Cloud stumbled out of the bathroom in a rage. Monochrome vision turned into blurred red. The high cusp of the high was passing, and the come-down was in full vicious swing.

“Little Bastard…I’ll show him. I’ll show you all! I’m still alive! I’m still alive!”

He staggered out onto the floor to grab some girls, but they all saw his eyes, telltale blood-shot red rings around his irises. They laughed and shrugged him off, which only intensified his fury. Then, Cloud thought he saw him, the boy from the bathroom. He charged across the floor and turned him about.

A smallish, rake thin boy with white hair gazed up at him.

“Preference, mate?”

Cloud shoved him forward, bidding him onward, pushing him toward some steps in the back. The boy got the hint, and let Cloud grab his shoulder— _pretending_ to be controlled. Cloud pushed him upstairs and into a side-room, then shoved him back against the door. The boy looked all of about twelve, close enough to eighteen. Cloud knew he would have to go to way scummier places to get real twelve year olds anyway.

The boy pulled a condom out of a pocket, but Cloud shoved it away and grabbed for his thin shirt instead.

“Wow, you’re really gone,” the boy remarked, letting Cloud tear his clothes off in a tumult. He threw him belly-down on the bed and fell on top of him, then hauled him to his knees, driving his erection against him as he undid his belt. Before the boy could even grab for lube, Cloud shoved his hips into him to make him scream, entering him with teeth bared in rage. Cloud didn’t let up, this guy was a professional, so he raw-dogged him in rhythmic slamming, dominating his small frame with his muscled physique. He gave all of two damns about the fake moaning the boy screamed in agony.

“SHUTUP!” Cloud yelled, and the moaning stopped. Now Cloud bore down on him, driving him flat to the bed, drilling him in powerful thrusts that pulled the sheets from under them. He tried to relax, though his mind was gone. He didn’t feel anything at all, running completely on autopilot as he pounded another guy’s pubescent backside into oblivion.   

Then, the door slammed open, and a gang of barrel-chested shirtless men burst in like a riot. Cloud was balls-deep when he looked up to meet a hard fist slamming into his face. He realized horrified that his limbs were like jelly, and he flopped like a rubber fish onto the ground. The big brawlers punched and kicked him until he spit blood. Someone grabbed his collar and yanked him up.

“ _Get his wallet!”_ one of them yelled.

“ _Get his pants!”_ called another, and that’s when Cloud fought for his life. He flailed like a child as his legs were grabbed. Weak and nauseated he found himself defenseless. They threw him face-down over a table, and then his world went black.

 

[Received Impaler]

 


	8. The Slums

The world came back in a slow, painful blur—the third time in three days that Cloud had woken up confused. This time, he woke up on the couch.

Tifa, Barret, and Wedge all assembled in the bar, awaiting his triumphant return. Tifa in particular leaned on the wall with her arms crossed, a disgusted furrow on her brow.

“Tifa,” Cloud groaned from on his stomach, and then realized something. “…Why am I naked?”

All eyes trained on him in stern gazes.

“You tell us,” she said, and that’s when it hit. It all came back to Cloud.

The blood rushed from his face as he turned stark pale. Tifa stomped outside to the back porch, while everyone else filed out to leave Cloud alone.

He stumbled off the couch, and the pain that shot up his legs confirmed everything for him in sickening horror. With the blanket tucked around his waist, he rushed downstairs like a staggering, drunken mad man and fell into the shower. Cold water slicing down at him, soap that flew out of his hands that he couldn’t even bend down to grab if he wanted to, he slumped down into the chipped-tile corner and sobbed into his hands.

“Welcome to the Slums. Welcome to the Slums.”

The next few days passed mercilessly slow, raining salt on Cloud’s bloody wounds. He sat out on the stoop of the bar, leaning his head against the post and gazing droopy-eyed off into nowhere. The world seemed to give him the cold shoulder, but he was used to shame. The only one who wouldn’t leave him alone was Red.

He came up to Cloud with a ball in his mouth, but Cloud took it and put it behind his back. Then the sad-eyed mutt trotted up with a Frisbee in his mouth. Cloud threw it on the roof. Next he brought a stick, but Cloud grumbled _No_ and tossed it. Red Ran after it joyful…until it landed in the garbage can. Cloud slumped back against the post with a heavy sigh, until Red brought him a car bumper.

“Gyahh, Red! Go lay down! Go!”

The dog finally gave up. Cloud sank back into his aimless thoughts, watching the world turn. He didn’t know what he was doing here, or if he was even still welcome here anyway. _She_ made the money, _she_ put him up, and now _she_ wasn’t speaking to him. She even had Wedge running the Seamless deliveries, but tips still sat in an envelope for Cloud as if giving him the nudge out the door. _Take it and go._ He guessed he was just working up the nerve.

After a long time, someone did speak to him though. Barret came out and sat next to him like this was middle school all over again, a message runner for a mutual friend. Cloud braced himself inside, but outside he just stared a million miles out into nowhere. Barret took a breath and watched with him.

“You go to the clinic—?”

“Yup. Negative.”

Barret pursed his lips.  

“Hate to say it but, you lucky Lil’ Mo. I know guys in that same sitch wind up dead.” Cloud winced at Barret’s bluntness. He had the sensitivity of a sledgehammer. “You talk to Tifa yet?”

“She won’t speak to me, and I don’t blame her.”

“Well hell, you shoulda told me you wanted to pork sumethin’! We woulda gone someplace else!”

“I’m tripping out. I took Dancer and now I can’t stop thinking about getting more.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll watch you. Cravings go away in a week anyway.” 

Now Cloud cringed. His life was a downspiraling nightmare. Might as well make it worse…

“Does she want me to leave?”

“Hasn’t said anything,” Barret shook his head, and then silence ensued for a moment. “I don’t understand, Mo. You been all up on each other for a long time now. The way you two fight, yous fixin ta git married. Why don’t you guys try somethin’?”

“I can’t just _try_ with my best friend.”

“Why not?”

A long look of despair crossed Cloud’s shaded cyan eyes.

“…Because if she goes, then I’ll truly be alone.”

Barret rubbed his good hand over his brow.  

“You love her?”

_“Eerrrrgh.”_

“C’mon Mo, she a beautiful girl with a heart that don’t fuck around with no one but you. All this time she aint had one boyfriend, not even a hookup, and you don’t even see the niggas I be throwin outta here comin onto her! You sayin you don’t got something special there?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know how I feel.”

“Oh you tellin’ me you don’t know bout all them times you come through for her? Damn near kill yourself cause she ask you to. Thas ur woman, bro. Go to’er!”

“I can’t!”

Then Biggs appeared from around the corner.

“We’re ready for the next run boss. He comin’?”

But Barret just eyed Cloud with a stern brow.

“Naw. Cloud ain’t comin, even if he wants to. I don’t got room for pussies on my crew.”

He stood up then and Cloud leapt up after him.  

 _“Another_ reactor?”

“Might make the donations start again, since someone ain’t man enough to get the job done.”

“Hey what the fuck! Seriously what the fucking fuck! I go through hell and highwater! I do backflips! I’m slumming it down here, I don’t even eat half the time! I—“

“Aw kiddo gonna throw a temper tantrum and think that it gonna solve his problems.”

“I was a SOLDIER dammit! I was in the war! That fucks with a person! I have problems I don’t even remember how I got!”

Barret just held up his arm-cannon— _tell me about it—_ and Cloud shut up.

“Son, it don’t matter if you fought Satan in the realm of the Ancient Ones to get your probs, what matters that they are _there_ , and what kind of man are you can’t do nuthin’ about em?”

Barret’s words hit him straight on like a round from that gun of his. So much for Cloud’s masculinity, like everything else in his life he didn’t have much control over. He turned in a blue haze as if to run away. But Barret kept on him.

“You always runnin’ Cloud, speedin through life like you tryin’ta get it over with. You got one foot on the Plate and one in the Slums, like you can’t _step up_. You work for everyone and no one, mercenary, but now that you missed quota, Don Corneo’s henchmen gonna come down here and put a bullet in your head. It’s over, man! You got nothin’ left to lose! Throw your lot in full this time. Why don’t you join us?”

Cloud faced the big man with a look of mottled fear, as if a crossroads had been laid out at his feet. Join AVALANCHE? In full? He was already gun-running, drug-dealing, hustling and fighting for them, but joining up meant one more job he’d have to take on or get taken out: hits. A fact that turned in Cloud’s stomach leered. He had it in him.

But Barret just scoffed.

“Oh yeah, I forgot. Yous afraid of commitment.”

Then he and Biggs walked away, leaving Cloud alone outside the one place he’d called home in what seemed like forever, that was now being taken away.

Meanwhile Tifa stood out back throwing a ball for Red, with much less enthusiasm that the dog had. It didn’t take long for Barret to walk up to her as well.

“Wassup girl?” he nodded. She nodded back but didn’t say anything, a long, listless look in her eyes. “So watchu got going on wit Lil’ Mo?”

Tifa winced, and looked away, but Barret just smiled and shook his head.

“I’m old enough to be your papa girl, yous are all like my kids here. You can tell Ole Barret what’s eatin’ ya.”

A heavy sigh, and she started talking.

“It’s just so hard with him. One minute he’s here and then the next I don’t even know who he is. One minute he wants me and is confessing his undying love for me, and then the next he’s saying we just _hooked up_ and I should forget about it.”

“Eh, young guy. Guys do that shit. Got a head fulla chemical that make’im stupid, start fights and wars that mess errthing up, make life miserable for errone! I tell’ya, he don’t got his head screwed on right anyway, even for a dude.”

“Oh what so that just gives him a free pass to have me when he’s feeling like _his head isn’t screwed on right_ , then go off and do I don’t even know what and tell me to forget about it?”

“Mo’s wrong, Letty. He know it, too. He feelin’ it worse than anyone in the world right now. Knows he gonna have to live wit what he done to you and to hisself. But why you even want that lil nigga anyway? He shows up here all beat up from the war and you been fawnin over him eva since just cu’ he broken.”

“I knew him before he got here.”

“So yous was friends during the war when he was deployed to your hometown, but the war’s over now. You shouldn’t be takin’ care’a anyone, you done wit that. He should be takin care’a you!”

Barret’s good hand was animated and all over the place, trying to drive his point home with her, and he knew he was getting through. She held herself with downturned eyes on the ground, and Barret stood up tall and solemn.

“Lemme tellya a story, girl, bout another guy who done fucked up and left a good woman. I was Mo’s age and met me a steady girl. Tries ta get me on the straight-and-narrow, get mah shit sorted, get outta the gangs and all. She finds out about my side-hoes and says nuthin, don’t even bat an eye. I dropped her cold, til I met up with her few years ago all broken-up and missin’ an arm to boot. She takes care’a me like you takin’ care’a Mo. Here’s me getting cold feet though and bailing _again_ , til I finds out she’s havin’ my baby. THEN I gits all committed, like I’m not the nigga who fucked around in the first place. I hustle like a mofo, take care’a her, and she decides she don’t want this life for our kid, decides she wanna go to law school, _I pay for it_. While she all off studyin’ I’m takin’ care’a my daughter. I’m givin’ her the bottle, I’m changin’ nappies, puttin’ her ta bed. She said _dada_ first. Then when Mama graduates, she clean takes off, moves above the Plate and takes my lil’ girl wit her. Now thas messed up, but I ain’t a little sucker anymore, I’m man enough to admit when I done goofed, and it came back ta haunt me.”

“That sucks, Barret. Sorry that happened.”

“What I’m tryina say for you is you don’t wanna waste yo time with us slumdogs down here. We all slummin’ it, and you can’t take the slum outta the man after he been through enough down here. He always gonna be looking for a getaway when things get hairy, always gonna be cuttin’ corners like he dealin in lowcity again. You want a man who gonna be committed to you, not some washbucket who gonna take off soon as you need’im.”

“Tch, yeah like I didn’t put up with enough of that in school anyway,” she scoffed sidelong.  

“Where you from, girl? Tell Ole Barret bout it.”

“I’m from waaaay out North, a place called Nibelheim.”

“Oh snap, that the place that got blown up during the war?”

“No, that’s a different place, but it did get destroyed and good riddance, I guess.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because growing up there was hell. It was all of a square mile in the middle of nowhere. Everyone knew everyone and no one ever got out. My dad was a hotshot photographer, so he was never around. He was paranoid enough about his daughter though. Ever since I got lost in the woods with my best friend, he went all ultra-conservative, tried to keep boys out of my life at all costs. He put me in church school and stuck me on birth-control, at thirteen! I was running around like a raging nymphomaniac, hopped up on hormones with tits the size of planets! Oh my god my back still hurts thinking about it. My dad let me train in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, but wouldn’t let me join the wrestling team at school because it was all boys! Oh yeah Dad, because if I ever get mugged in a back alley, it’s totally going to be by another girl. Life sucked there, I’m just glad I’m not there anymore, and to be honest I’m kinda glad it’s not there anymore either.”

“Man, from one father to anotha I can see how easy it is to go ovaboard. Where your daddy at now?”

“He’s dead.”

“Aw, man…” Barret cringed at the thought. “I’m sorry, girl. But don’t you fret, you got family here now. Ole Mo, forget’im, he’ll come around. How I know? Because I was a young idiot once too, Barret knows. Besides, you really want a man whose ass you can kick across kingdom-come on a bad day?”

That got a slight smile out of her. A little smile was a little victory. He hit her chin up with a long finger.

“You just chin up. You’re beautiful and someone who deserves ya’s gonna see it soon. Now c’mere and give Ole Barret a hug.”

That had her smiling, a full beaming grin that pierced the Plate and let the sun shine in. He hugged her like she’d just graduated college, or gotten married, or some life milestone that he hoped to one day be able to repeat again. But for now, this practice was just fine. He held her out to arms length with a satisfied smirk.

Then, boot steps on the back porch. Someone was finally ready to talk. They saw Cloud standing there as straight and tall as he could manage, and Barret looked back at Tifa.

“You remember what I told ya.”

Then he walked away to let the kids talk.  

Tifa stood not looking at Cloud as he took slow steps toward her. He stopped in front of her like a highwayman turning himself into the law. A gap lay between them like an impenetrable wall, something she’d put there to protect herself, six feet of space that separated them like an entire world.

They started talking at the same time and stopped. He cringed, then let up when he saw her do the same. _Well, strike one for us both._

“I’m…afraid,” he said in a sad monotone. She furrowed her brow.  

“Of what?”

“…That you hate me.”

Her eyes fell to the ground, and she grasped herself as if trying to keep her insides from spilling out.  

“…I’m pretty mad.”

“…I can tell.”

A light breeze blew ravenhair strands toward him, and the world seemed to disappear. She looked up to meet his distant cyan eyes.

“Are you okay?” she asked, and he just shook his head.

“…No. You?”

“…No.”

And silence. A damn seemed to overflow in that next moment, letting all they were trying to hold back spill out in a flood.

“Look, I don’t want to fight—“

“I don’t either—“

“It’s just that—“

“It’s just—“

“You and me—“

“It’s not fair—“

“I don’t know anything anymore—“

“Why? Just why?—“

“It’s not you—“

“Is it me?—“

“I just don’t want to lose—“

“Why can’t we just—“

“Please understand—“

“Please—“

And they tripped, choking on their words again. It all came to a screeching halt as their thoughts bashed together in a brining storm. He hated the static more than anything.

“Barret asked me to join AVALANCHE. I’m going to tell him yes.”

“No! Why!”

“Because it can get us out of here!”

“You’re just diving in deeper! You’ll never get out! No one ever gets out!”

“I don’t want to die down here. I refuse! This place has taken everything away from me. I don’t know how you see me, but everything aside, I consider you family. I’m not going to let it take you too! This thing with us, we’ll figure it out, NOT here.”

And he bore into her. That six feet became two, and his shadow oppressed her. The SOLDIER in him reared like a warrior, standing tall with the enemies of the world at his back, holding them at bay.

“Let’s go. One more run. And then let’s get the hell out of dodge and never look back.”

 

[Received Echo Screen]

 

 

 


	9. Fal'Cie

Midnight. A junkyard. It was known as the Train Graveyard.

Mako Reactor 1 loomed at the other end of the abandoned railyard, low-key and out of the public eye. Unlike the other Reactors that powered certain parts of the city, this Reactor was special—it powered Shinra Headquarters. The sabotage team slipped toward it like shadows in the null of thick night.

Cloud, Tifa, and Barret’s gang ran through the railyard, stopping with backs to hollowed train cars to scan the perimeter. Something wasn’t right. A horrible feeling in Cloud’s gut made him wretch.

“Wait,” he grabbed Barret’s shoulder. “Something’s wrong.”

“You jus’ trippin’ Mo, let’s go.”

They rushed forward on soft feet. One hundred meters from the unguarded entrance, someone’s foot tripped a wire, and spotlights beamed on them. They froze as Shinra guards deactivated their stealth camo and opened fire on the gang.

Cloud leapt forward, whirling his big Buster Sword to block the bulletspray.

“Go!” he shouted, and they rushed toward the Reactor entrance, way ahead of him. Bullets pelted against his tungsten blade, until all noise stopped, and Cloud heard his heartbeat in his ears. In a flash, the world turned red.

_GO!_

A voice. In his head. Echoing like reverb.

_RUN CLOUD!_

He let his Buster Sword down. Bullets flew all around him, pelting the ground at his feet, kicking up bits of sand and pebbles onto his black fatigues. The world around him shone in a red matte, and in front of him he saw the sixteen year old blonde boy from the brothel, dragging a young man with black hair. Cloud couldn’t see the face, obscured in a fog of reminiscence, but one thing stuck out at him…the Buster Sword on the man’s back.

Words, from before.

_WAKE UP!_

“Cloud! Wake up!” Tifa yelled from the Reactor entrance, and Cloud snapped to. He ran back toward them with sentries in hot pursuit. Rushing up the stairs where Barret laid down suppression fire from his arm-cannon, Cloud barreled into the entry bay before stumbling. His sword, it was insanely heavy. Cloud felt someone’s bodyweight resting in full on his shoulders…like he’d been carrying someone.

“Cloud, catch!”

Jessie threw him a satchel charge. Cloud caught it and raced up the stairs toward the Reactor core. Bullets pelted the inside pipelines, flaring alarm sirens and flashing strobe lights like a dangerous dance hall. He ran over the catwalk suspended across the endless Reactor neck that spanned down past the planet’s outer layer. He’d have to set the charge by the core, and then they could run.

But something went wrong. Biggs took a bullet to the head, which dropped him flat on his back still firing up at the ceiling. The lead-splatter caused a generator platform to break loose, which careened down to crush Jessie…and her trigger switch.

Cloud heard a beeping click in the bag, and threw it away in a flash. Too late. It exploded over the catwalk, bashing him over the edge of the railing to fall down the Reactor neck.

“CLOUD!” Tifa yelled too late as he fell helpless and alone.

He tumbled over and over in terror, falling in the darkness. But then, something clicked from his SOLDIER training. He flipped to his stomach and extended his arms in an aerodynamic fan. A slow-count back from ten helped him keep time. Slow and yet all too fast, his mental clarity stabilized as he sliced through the Reactor neck all the way down toward an eerie green glow from the Mako chamber. Cloud fell out the shoot into a colossal open chasm, and that’s when he saw it.

The Fal’Cie.

The massive geothermic crystal hovered in a catalytic stasis, shedding electrons onto the oozing green liquid that flowed straight from the planet’s mantle. One hundred airships wouldn’t equal the crystal’s sheer mass, a hyperlithic holy entity.

Cloud fell toward it, finding himself engulfed in a radiant beam of straylight, and his descent came to a screeching halt. The crystal held him suspended in space, scanned him with a warm ray of light, and deemed him worthy. A soft emblazoning brushed his arm, then sheer fire burned him. Cloud screamed as a flowing brand was seared onto his forearm like a laser, and then felt himself hurled back up the way he’d come.

The crystal shot him back out through the Reactor neck, up through the core chamber, and out into the sky. His descent overshot the Plate, wide and far down toward the reaches of lowcity, careening toward the ever-present clutches of death. 

 

[Received Crystal Sword]


	10. Magnolian Skies

Cloud careened through unconscious dark in his mind, unsure whether he was alive or dead. The echo of distant voices sounded far away, though he knew it wasn’t the voice that spoke to him every now and then.

_Is that why you lied…Because you didn’t want to hurt me?_

A girl’s voice, airy and pubescent. Who was talking?

Then, another voice, slight as a flower like the sigh of soft winds.

_The sky. It frightens me. I feel like it’s going to swallow me whole._

Then he heard crying, and felt the warm brush of arms around his neck.

_I had a bad dream. I don’t want you to go…I don’t want you to die!_

Then silence, the low muffled buffeting of neurons firing. Then, a light shone through, and he came back in that all-too-familiar slow blur.

Rays of falselight streamed down from a hole in a high roof. The arched ceilings let him know he was in some sort of church. Tiny petals brushed his face. He found himself in a bed of marigold flowers growing from a hole in the floorboards.

He turned his head to see a pair of white legs crouch down next to him, and in his field of view hovered an angel, by all accounts. She smirked with little lips down at him, the indentation of a dimple on porcelain cheeks.

“What’s up with you SOLDIER guys and falling through my roof?”

She had a soft, light voice like a mother’s hum, octaves like cherry blossoms singing. But the song was sad, a low and muffled monotone made of autumn winds.

Waves of auburn hair enchanted him, and he gasped like he couldn’t breathe. She stood back to give him some air, and Cloud kicked up to his feet.

_Stuntin’_

A mean streak in him thought he’d scored brownie points, but instead met the shocked eyes of a slight and beautiful young girl in a white mage’s robe with indigo trim.

“That sword. Where did you get that sword?”

An urgency edged her voice as worlds welled in her green eyes. Cloud’s mean streak fled like a storm, replaced by shame, an urge to apologize.

“My mentor gave it to me. He—”

But then she _fled_ to the front pew, and broke down in sobs. Her head in her hands, gasps of pain that wracked her thin frame, her cries echoed like organ music in the empty hall of the church.

Cloud just stood confused, and thought maybe the first thing to do at least was get out of the flowers. He went over to her, hands up harmless.

“Hey, um, I’m sorry—“

But she _wailed_ at his approach, and he stopped short. O-kay, some girls were a tad dramatic. Well, there wasn’t much he could do about the situation. Best to let her be.

He started out of the church, respectful and soft-footed in his SOLDIER waffle-stompers. Cloud could move like a shadow even in steel-toed boots. He left the church heavy-hearted and scratching his head.

Outside was a bomb zone worse than Sector 7, with bulldozed piles of rubble and debris from failed “Urban Restabilization” operations by Shinra some years prior. Most of the piles were destroyed shanty-huts—people’s houses. He could tell it was late at night by the moonlamps that shone from the durasteel Plate above, but he had no idea where he was. He picked a direction down the main avenue and started walking...then stopped on a dime.

Graffiti. Triple Triangles. _Triads._

Cloud turned right around and headed straight back to the church.

Inside, he didn’t see her. Perhaps she’d gone as well. It was as good a place as any to wait out the night, though not particularly religious, Cloud thought he had a lot to atone for. As he approached the flowers bed, he noticed that they gleamed an airy hue, the luster of Ether. Healing properties. If he’d have fallen a foot to the left, he assumed, he’d have been a goner. A statue of a woman with seven saintly wings stood erected behind the tabernacle, corroding and chipped as if she had been there a long time. Above him, he saw empty mason jars hanging from the rafters with twine, a thin pallor of dust obscuring their opaque hue.

He turned around and there she was, standing with flowing auburn hair that swam down her back like a stallion.

“Uh…Hey, I’m back!” Cloud threw an exaggerated smile, then rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry about your flowers…and your roof.”

She flowed past him in a wisp, and gazed at the hole above. She had the long, lost look of someone who’d seen a thing or two, and no longer cared. Cloud noted her delicate hands, and something else…a demantoid-garnet engagement ring. She winced then, and spoke in that low monotone that Cloud could have sworn he’d heard somewhere before.

“I just got that fixed too. Guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

Then she glanced at him with aquatic green eyes, and Cloud realized in a flash where he’d seen her.

“Hey! You’re that flower girl!”

Silence. A subtle stare gazed straight through him.

“…I’m Aerith Fair.”

He froze for a moment, having trouble organizing his thoughts. Her beauty transcended the natural world. Cloud could write a sonnet about her eyes.

“I’m uh, _uhhhhh…”_

“Cloud Strife.”

“How did you—?”

“We were introduced once, but it’s not important.”

“Wait. We were? When?!” He followed after her, tagging along like a puppy as she moved from the flowerbed. Then he noticed something else—troughs full of potting soil, and small terraces in clay pots lined in rank and file.

“What is all of this?” Cloud asked enthused. But she just replied in her same monotone.

“It used to be my gardening operation, but nothing much grows here anymore. I haven’t planted a new crop in a long time.”

“You’re just here gardening? In the scuzziest part of lowcity?”

“The neighborhood used to be nicer. It’s gone down in the past few years, like the rest of the city, I suppose.”

He caught sight of snaking vines covering the back wall, heavy with bulbous gourds.

“Zucchini?” he asked. An educated guess, she noticed. At least he didn’t say _grapes_.

“Squash vines. They’ve gotten out of hand though. They’ve grown too high for me to reach.”

“I can help!”

“No, please, really—“

And Cloud was already climbing the terrace up to the rafters. He hooked his legs over a beam to hang upside down, then started pulling squash gourds off the vines and dropping them to the floor. They smashed like Halloween pumpkins, and Aerith just pursed her lips with a sigh. Cloud jumped down from the beam with a huge, stupid grin on his face like he was some sort of hero, until he saw Aerith putting the smashed bits into a garbage bag and wiped it right off.

Then, a searing pain shot up his left forearm. He clutched it with a groan to see an intricate, snaking brand gleaming in golden lines.

“What the heck is this?”

“Let me see,” Aerith took his arm. Her touch made the pain dissipate as she examined it. “…An anima brand…you pissed off the Fal’Cie.”

“The what?”

“It’s the crystal that produces the Mako to power the city. You’re lucky to be alive. And now it sucks to be you.”

“Hey! Why?”

She took the garbage bag out by the side door, tied it off and dropped it just outside. He still tailed her like some big red dog he had at home.

“Because you have an adventure ahead of you. The crystal has bestowed a task upon you with that brand.”

“What task?”

“I don’t know. I’m not the one with the brand.”

“Well how am I supposed to know? I didn’t ask for this!”

She grabbed a broom and started sweeping around the squash vines, as if Cloud weren’t there. “Well, you shouldn’t have woken it up.”

“I couldn’t help it! I fell into the reactor!”

She crinkled her nose at that weird admission. “What were you doing in the reactor?”

Busted. Cloud didn’t know if she’d caught the tribal tattoo around his bicep, or even knew what it implied, but he _really_ didn’t want to point it out. Talk about a long story. What _was_ he doing in that reactor anyway?

“I was…trying to help a friend.”

A pile of dead leaves was swept into the flowerbed. They took on a vibrant green hue again.  

“I recall you said there was no one special in your life?”

“Well, she’s special, but she’s not my girlfriend. She’s my best friend.”

“A girl is your best friend?”

“I get along better with women.”

“And let me guess, it brings out your _sensitive side.”_

Cloud shrugged. “If you say so.”

She eyed him then, the slightest flash of a glare. Here was a woman who talked with her eyes. But Cloud just stood there taking it, and after a long moment she went to put the broom away.  

“The avenue outside will take you to the main street, which will take you to the highway. I’m sure you can get home from there.”

“I can’t go anywhere anyway. Triad territory, and they don’t really like my kind.”

“Where do you need to go?”

“Sector 7. Lowcity.”

A pause. She eyed him again for a moment that felt like forever.  

“I will take you.”

Then she threw up the cowl of her robe, grabbed a white oaken staff from the corner, and brushed past him like a proceeding Magi. He whirled to run after her.

Outside felt like an urban map of a first-person shooter. Cloud was scanning his view field like he was in some sort of videogame. Adrenaline surged every time he caught noise from an alley cat or the distant clamor of garbage pails falling over. But Aerith walked swift and confident, a strong aura shrouding her light footsteps. Until…

More footsteps, behind and on all sides. Well, it was inevitable, Cloud figured. His hand shot to his sword and he dropped into combat-mode as thugs appeared from alleyways all around them. But Aerith just stood tall and took his hand, a blank expression on her porcelain face as she interlaced her fingers with his.

The circle around them became smaller. Triple-triangles adorning skin and clothing leered like war banners, and improvised weapons of chains and sharpened steel rods eyed them like prey. The thugs enclosed them in a circle, and their ring-leader stepped forward, a tall guy in studded leggings and a leather vest.

“Aerith…What are you doing?” he squinted.

“I’m taking this boy home with me.”

A chorus of _ooooooh’s_ ensued, but he just scoffed at the pair.

“But you couldn’t take me home with you all those times I asked nicely?”

“No.”

Hands flew over mouths. Aerith was so direct, so blunt in her soft monotone voice. She didn’t break eye-contact, and he eyed her right back.  

“You’re something else, bringing home a wanted terrorist from AVALANCHE? What’s your mother going to think?”

“I’ll find out when I get home.”

Now people’s patience was tested, and he didn’t care to go back and forth with her. Cloud tensed, sensing a fight drawing near, and now he’d have to protect her as well.

“Move away, Aerith. Nobody wants to kill the White Mage of Sector 5,” the ring-leader demanded.  

She just held up her engagement ring hand.

“You can try.”

And a flame appeared in her palm like a blow-torch. Dark fire danced in her hand, flickering in her irises. _Dark-Firaga._ Even Cloud shuddered at a magic cast he didn’t have, and everyone took slow steps back from the tight circle. The ring-leader stood stone as she walked in a slow stride past him with Cloud in tow at her side. They continued down the avenue, and no one bothered them from there.

Cloud didn’t speak, couldn’t make words form. She let go of his hand some ways down the avenue and Cloud felt a sudden sense of loss, like something right in the world had been jarred. That’s when he realized the truth of his nervous quiet: _he was swooning._

She finally spoke by a three-way fork in the road, and Cloud’s heart jumped at her soft voice.

“There’s a park down this way. I walk through it to get home, even though it takes longer. Would you care to go?”

He stood up tall with a gleam in his cyan eyes, and a sweet grin crossed his lips. 

“That kinda sounds like a date.”

“It’s not.”

And she started walking away. _Shutdown._ He trotted after her shoving his confusion to the backburner.  

They came to a sad little park with dirt for sand and rusted jungle-gyms. Some swings still hung intact while others dangled by one chain. A beaten path wound down to a stinking riverbed. Aerith headed there and crouched by the water’s edge, while Cloud just held his nose.

“This is the worse river in the city,” he exclaimed.

“I’ve been restoring the riverbed for several years,” she retorted, but he just scoffed at the murky water.

“Tch, good luck.”

“This river was once great and beautiful a long time ago. You believe that just because something has fallen into despair means that it can never recover?”

Cloud stopped at that. Her aquatic eyes bore into him, and he let his head drop low.

“I don’t know…” he said as he glanced down at his black fatigues, his scuffed boots, his cut-up arms, “I hope so.”  

Aerith continued brushing dead grass away from small green shoots that managed to take root along the bank, tossing away bits of trash that had accumulated around the fragile growth.

“There’s no sunlight down here. It’s suffocating. If only the plants could see the sky, then they could recover. Nothing can grow down here like this.”

She stood up then, solemn and sad. Cloud watched her like the sweeping flow of a watercolor brush as she strode from the water's edge, taking a part of him with her at every step.

“My house is this way. You’ll stay the night, since the gang will be following to see where I leave you now.”

“No prob…” he replied with a glimmer of satisfaction. “No complaints at all.”

She led him down a myriad of side-streets and burned out colonial houses. The neighborhood improved a little, but the level of dilapidation reached blinding poverty. Boarded windows watched them as they walked.

Her house laid down a little cul-de-sac, the only one not missing all the shingles. The front yard seemed kept up enough, though a war with weeds appeared to be ever raging. He followed her up the stone-step stoop and into the two-story dwelling.

Inside was clean and dark, an oil lamp lit to save on electric costs. Mako circulation in lowcity was sketchy to begin with, and this side of the Slums lights were a privilege, not a right.

Above the brick fireplace, Cloud noticed a framed diploma from Midgar University’s Botany program. Her last name was different on the certificate.

“You’re a botanist?” he exclaimed in a soft note.

She hung up her cloak and staff, revealing cut-off jean shorts and a cropped white vest. A necklace of silver forget-me-not’s dangled at her sleek collarbone.

“I should have gone to nursing school. There are more jobs.”

Then a big woman appeared from the kitchen, the kind who could eat young gentlemen-callers and spit them out like watermelon seeds. But as soon as she saw Cloud, she let out an exasperated sigh—like she was tired.

“No, no, no! Aerith, no boys! We had this talk! We—“

But Aerith just stood next to Cloud, who wore a SOLDIER’s uniform and sheathed a massive Buster Sword over his back. Aerith’s eyes were edged with a subtle pleading urgency, and the woman was silent for a long time.

“Oh, _grrrrrnnn…_ Go fetch some clean sheets from the linen closet and fix him a bed.”

She whisked upstairs to carry out her mother’s orders, leaving Cloud alone with the medieval warrior of a woman. But her armor seemed tattered now, like she was too ambivalent to be a threat to anyone anymore. She eyed the young man standing in her living room with a blank look that gave nothing away.

“You can leave your sword over there by the fireplace,” she told him, and then retreated back into the kitchen.  

Cloud unsheathed his blade and went to do as he was told. By the brick flooring, he noticed something odd though—a long indentation as if something heavy had drilled it. The tip of Cloud’s sword fit perfectly in the groove.

He went into the kitchen to find her brewing a kettle on the old stove.

“Sit,” she beckoned to him like a new puppy, and Cloud promptly took a seat at the little table. “How do you take your coffee?”

“Um, black, thank you.”

She shuffled about the kitchen, preparing mugs and sweeping stray grounds into the sink. She set his cup down in front of him with a spoon, and he nodded a nervous appreciation, while she sat stirring cream into her own mug across from him. She didn’t look at him.

“Where did you get that sword, son?”

Cloud was somewhat taken aback. It was a pretty remarkable sword but this was the second time he’d been asked about it, and the big woman struck a sort of Stockholm Syndrome in him.

“My mentor in SOLDIER gave it to me…He’s dead now.”

“Yes, rest his soul,” she answered in a quick quip, like she was brushing it under the rug. Her spoon clanged against the inside of her mug. “Are you in SOLDIER now?”

“No Ma’am…Not anymore.”

“What do you do for work now?”

“I’m a bartender.”

“Above or below the Plate?”

Cloud froze. He really didn’t want to answer this one. He braced himself in a sheepish shrug, as if a blow were coming.

“…Below.”

 _Now_ she looked at him.

“Ah, I see. _A gangster.”_

And Cloud _cringed_. That blow came alright, like a sharp rolled newspaper swat.

Just then, Aerith pattered down the stairs and flowed through the kitchen to the back door. She didn’t look at either of them, but her mother noticed the way Cloud’s gaze followed her, and stayed on her as she fled out into the backyard.

“What do you know about Aerith?” she asked, serious now.

“She uses magic and isn’t Mako-infused. Is she human?”

“No. Of course not.” The woman took a long sip of her coffee, then looked off out the window at something that wasn’t there. “Aerith will go with you when you leave. I’ve kept her prisoner here long enough.”

Cloud sat up in a flash.

“Ma’am I—“

“My word is final! If you don’t take her, she’ll have nowhere to go, because she’s no longer welcome here!”

Then the woman stood up from the table and fled from the kitchen. Cloud caught whimpering sobs in her wake.

Confusion was nothing new to him. Cloud had been dealing with it for years. Nothing surprised him anymore. Nothing fazed him. He just got up and went outside to join Aerith.

He found her leaning against a big apple tree in the backyard, smoking a thin cigarette. He leaned against the trunk next to her with a perplexed look on his face. Well, _almost_ nothing surprised him. It just seemed so unlike her as she took a slow drag and exhaled.

“Life is short. We’re allowed our indulgences…every now and then.” She looked up at him with worlds in her eyes. Something dark vexed this poor family, and Cloud had no idea how to deal with it. He pursed his lips up at the bare tree branches as Aerith dragged on her slim smoke.  

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think your mom just kicked you out.”

She just smirked out into nowhere.

“Wow. She must really like you. She’s only threatened to do that with one other person.”

They stood side by side in silence after that, staring out into a dull, distant night.

She lead him to the guest room upstairs when it was time to turn in.

“My room is down the hall. If you need anything, don’t knock, just come in.”

Then she flowed to her own room like a shaded fawn, leaving him to his own devices. He watched her go, so many thoughts swirling in his mind, her aura leaving him dazed in the wake of her stallion hair. She shut him out of her world, and he turned to his own room. He went in to find a small twin bed nestled next to an antique dresser, but not much more in the way of furniture. A rocking chair lay in a corner next to an entryway for a storage room. Cloud cracked the door a hair to peek inside.

A sliver of light shone on a white gown that had been draped over an armchair, beaded and flowing in royal waves of candlelight silk. Clips and pins lay studded here and there next to spools of thread. The dress lay abandoned and unfinished. Cloud respectfully closed the door.

He only removed his boots and socks. A SOLDIER always remained dressed in a strange place, always remained on guard. He curled up on his side and dozed off to a sense of whirling vertigo. _De ja vu._

[Received Gold Needle]


	11. Death Incarnate

He awoke like he was trapped in a mirror. The lucid sensation shifted his vision in vertigo. He stood up out of bed in the ambivalent dark, and felt taller. The world around him seemed smaller. A glance at his reflection in the vanity…he had black hair.

A twinge in his eye sockets, his sinuses exploded. He pinched the brim of his nose to find blood dripping onto his fingers. Pinching his nostrils, the pain intensified. He needed an Aspirin.

Down the hall into the bathroom, he didn’t bother flicking the lights. He wiped his nose with a tissue and managed to stall the blood flow. The empty medicine cabinet brought him no relief, perhaps Aerith would know where they kept painkillers. He started toward her room…

The pain lessened as he approached her door. He was able to stop squinting. Now that the pain had let up, did he really need to wake her? He could sleep it off now, he was a big boy. But something ebbed at him as he neared her room, something childish that demanded his attention. Light steps brought him to her doorframe. He turned the nob and went in.

The room was a cool blue null with a West-facing window, moonlamp light was diffused through thin curtains that showed shadows of bars outside. No pictures hung on her walls, though outlines shown as if they had all been taken down. Her soft shag carpet welcomed his bare feet, and the titillating waft of white sage incense called him further into her world. 

He saw her asleep on a twin bed of down covers, a bed frame like iron vines. He stopped breathing, her soft, sleeping breaths stealing his away. Her legs poked out from under her dark comforters, clad in pajamas of pink plaid. He caught the strap of a white tank under the cusp of blankets. A beautiful laurel, he could gaze at her for the rest of his life like this. But he _refused_ to be that creeper who watched a girl sleep—either wake her and ask quickly or leave her alone.

He flowed to the edge of her bed and sat down, meaning to shake her, to whisper her name, but nothing came to him. His words were dead air in his mouth, entranced by auburn hair. The world still swirled in vertigo, the sensation of falling underwater. At last he was able to lay his hand on her pale shoulder, and she awoke like the moon itself had come to rouse her.

She gasped, and he moved to explain, but when she sat up there was a longing in her eyes, like she needed him. A sense of wonder enslaved him as she smiled, like she’d been waiting for him to come to her. As she curled up against him and brought her lips to his, he froze in a state of awe. Her existence was surreal, soft warmth cradling his mouth in hers. He thought he would enjoy this more, but his awareness remained frozen in a state of mind-blindness. What was happening here?

She smelled of cherry blossoms, the waft of wildflowers flooding his nostrils. She pulled away glowing as she brushed his cheek. Her personality had done a complete flip. This sparkling daffodil was so different from the ghost orchid he’d met in the church. Her hair flowed over her shoulder like a bride’s veil, and she leaned back so submissive, so inviting, so alluring. She called to him with her body, and her lithe hand slid a strap from her tank top down her shoulder.

Confusion was Cloud’s constant companion, and somehow he got his bearing. Why was she coming onto him? He wasn’t the type to take advantage of a girl like this. He _really_ didn’t think she was that kind of girl, this easy? Even if she was more loose than he’d first thought—she did seem to have a few _problems_ —something in him really did not want to see her like that. He reached for her inviting collar line, and moved the strap back up onto her shoulder.

But her eyes regarded him with shock, confusion rivaled even by his own. What she said next echoed in his mind.

“Don’t you know me?”

Her shaken eyes shook the world. The vertigo whirled in his brain. The room began to shake and blur, the image of her remaining clear in his field of view. Then she was snatched away, and he woke up to find Aerith’s mother shaking him.

“You must leave! Now!”

Wha—?

A glance back at the vanity found him with blonde hair. A dream. Now he was being thrown out in a frantic rush.

“Quickly!” she beckoned him, pulling his arm, and he threw his socks and boots back on in a hurry. He followed out into the hallway where Aerith rushed from her room. Cloud gasped…She wore pink plaid pajamas.

“Mother? What’s wrong?”

“The Neighborhood Watch called. They’ve seen him!”

The color rushed from Aerith’s face. Her frantic mother cupped her hands in a mad frenzy, while Aerith’s eyes flew into a panic. She dashed back into her room and threw on her clothes from the previous day in a handful of seconds. Cloud was already being dragged down the stairs. He sheathed his sword by the fireplace as Aerith grabbed her staff and threw on her cloak and white boots. Her mother shoved them both out the front door.

“What about you?” Aerith asked.

“I’ll be at the neighbor’s, now fly!”

And Aerith took off, bounding into the night. But Cloud found the big woman grabbing his arm. She bore into him with wild eyes.

“Don’t let anything happen to her. Protect her, keep her alive! Swear to me on your SOLDIER honor.”

 _That_ hit Cloud. He didn’t know what this family knew that he didn’t, but he was awake now. He nodded back at her.

“…On my honor.”

“Then go and don’t stop running! Don’t ever stop!”

She shoved him away and Cloud sprinted off into the dark.

The woman hurried back inside to grab her purse. She whisked into the kitchen cabinet, grabbed her blood pressure medicine and her glasses. Then she turned to leave, and screamed.

A dark man stood in the doorway, shrouded in a black mist that obscured his form save for one feature—a deadly cerulean daikatana. The woman caught herself against the counter shaking and managed to stand up straight. With trembling hands clasped bravely in front of her, she stood up as straight and formal as she could to address the intruder.

“She’s not here.”

But the intruder did not respond, yet he took a step forward into the kitchen. His shadow engulfed the woman.

“You will never catch her,” she declared. But then that daikatana slid its sharp edge up, and a lightning flash cut short a scream that echoed through the Slums.

Cloud caught up with Aerith at the end of the cul de sac and they kept running, down side streets that flickered in dirty limelight from broken street lamps. Shadows chased them, like stalking wolves. A blown out pile of rubble lay in their path. Aerith hopped it like a leaping deer, jumping from rock to rock, while Cloud scampered after her trying not to break his ankles. At the top, she stopped to survey their surrounds while Cloud caught up.

“Why are we running?” Cloud huffed up the last boulder. “Who’s chasing us?”

“His name is Death. You’ll know him when you see him.”

She leapt onto some pipelines and slid down the frame, while Cloud held his arms out praying for balance. She jumped down scanning, muttering to herself.

“How did he find me…after all this time…?”

Cloud jumped down next to her, and his brand glowed. Her eyes shot wide.

“The anima brand...You lead him straight to me!”

A commotion, ahead of them. Black mist filtered from the shadows. A veil of dark Chaos brooded from the alleys, and from their darkness stepped a pale man with silver hair streaming down to his boots. His face was a sharpened vestige of profane sacrilege, carved from marble with a razor blade. Yet black veins snaked their way up his pale features and black, irisless eyes. He walked as if death himself walked with him, carrying a twelve-foot daikatana in his left hand, and clad himself in a gunmetal longcoat with sword straps crossing his bare chest. The train of his cloak flowed down over fatigues that were all too familiar to Cloud; a SOLDIER 1st Class uniform.

When Cloud saw him, his jaw hit the ground, then curled into a wide smile.

“You! _You’re alive!”_

Cloud _laughed_. He was so happy! He knew him alright! He started for the man with arms thrown wide. But when he came within arms length, that cerulean daikatana streaked for him in a death-slice.

“What the—“

Cloud leapt aside. The blade followed.

“Hey, it’s me!” Cloud yelled to no avail.

The silver man drove for him in a murderous rage, slitting his sword at Cloud, who ducked and dodged as fast as he could. The feral sting of a laser-blade slitting centimeters from his throat stole his breath. He felt the whizz of sliced air against his skin. Life became so simple within arms reach of death.

Cloud backsprung off a hand, drawing his sword mid-leap, and landed blade-crossed with the silver man. A one-two slice-bash exchange sent sparks flying, and Cloud charged in a fulminating power slash that sent the silver man skidding back. But in that split-second, time froze.

The man flared his daikatana, single-slashing across the ground in the streak too quick to see. Cloud barely managed to fling his blade up to block, and was sent flying back fifty feet back into the pipes they’d leapt down from. Rubble and refuse toppled down on him, but a lithe hand grabbed him, pulling him out. _Aerith._

“Get back!” she pulled him behind her, flaring her staff out. Cloud couldn’t believe it. Was she actually going to try to _fight_ him?

“But you’ll die!”

She ignored him, and took a strong step forward. The silver daemon strode toward them, black mist shrouding his movements like a wave. Aerith’s iris eyes flashed a dark green hue as she chanted an incantation to the air, and all at once a divine transmutation circle appeared around them at their feet.

 _“I am a servant of the Goddess of Grace_  
Ancient Ones of the hierophant race  
Besieged by divinations from Hell  
Help me cast this spell”

She glowed an unearthly indigo, flung her staff skyward and slammed it into the ground. All at once, the transmutation circle burst into a holocaustic wall of flame that shot in all directions, abolishing the space around them and obliterating all in their path. _Hell-Firaga._ This was dark, Ancient Magic.

Before Cloud had a chance to see if the spell worked, Aerith grabbed him and they were booking it down the side streets. They sprinted like their lives depended on it, and very well did, running toward the edge of the Sector and the train station. Their luck had seemed to abandon them. The bullet train was already taking off.

Cloud and Aerith ran for dear life up to the platform. She jumped in one graceful, cat-like leap onto the roof while Cloud grabbed the ladder and climbed up. Black mist shrouded all about the train. The Chaos fumed in billowing tentacles, reaching for them in hunger. And from its evil embrace stepped the form of the silver man—he traveled in the mist.

Cloud and Aerith wretched back in terror, his arm holding Aerith behind him. Though deathly low on magic, she cast a weak translucent _Barrier_ around them. It was better than nothing. The man flowed across the roof of the train toward them, and Cloud drew his Buster Sword, which morphed into the more compact _Stunner Blade_ and sent the other Fusion Swords into hammerspace.

Deliberately, he strode toward the man, who brought his daikatana in a sidelong arc to meet him. A harrowing, crashing hit sent sparks sheening across the roof. Cloud swipe-parried and bash-hammered against a slitting daikatana blade that whipped for him like a scorpion tail. He staggered back amid a slice-barrage, lightning streaks flaring in flash-crescents, whirling his sword to deflect the cerulean blade’s terribly accurate tip. The rush of hurricane force winds beat against them as the bullet train sped up, and a bend in the tracks threw them sidelong. Cloud whirled for balance, but that daikatana rushed in, swiping and down-slicing on all sides to throw him off. It was all he could do upslice away amid backsteps that almost took him right over the edge. The silver man pressed in with low thrusts. Cloud tried to back away and get back to even footing, but the relentless assault followed his every step. Then, in a last-ditch effort, he twirled his blade in a backhanded cross, sheened the daikatana aside, and back-handsprung away from his attack circle.

He and Aerith ran, leaping cars like jaguars, running for their lives to where they knew now. When they reached the conductor’s car, they were out of places to run, and the bullet train was speeding so fast that they couldn’t jump if they wanted to. Cornered, they crouched at the end of the train car in terror as the black mist closed in on them. He stepped from the shadows with his daikatana flared like an executioner’s halberd, but then he looked up, and stopped. Cloud looked over his shoulder and caught the tunnel closing in on them fast. Without thinking, he threw himself over Aerith and pressed them both flat to the roof. The silver man leapt away as the train entered the tunnel, taking the black mist with him and leaving Cloud and Aerith for now.

When the train emerged, the Chaos mist was gone, and Cloud still clutched Aerith to him with a ferocity that rivaled life itself.

 

[Received Painkillers]


	12. Don Corneo

Cloud and Aerith hopped off the train at the Prospect Park stop. They were almost at Sector 7 anyway. Once clear of the railyard, Aerith pointed out a roadway with her staff.

“That’s the BQE. It will take you right through Sector 7. Farewell.”

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“Away from _you_.”

“ _Why_?”

She turned on him with a glare like lasers.

“Because thanks to you and your talent for impressing divine crystals, we’re now a walking homing beacon. That brand is linked to the Lifestream like he is. He can sense it. But if I run, I still have a chance to get far enough away to where he can’t feel me. And you should do the same.”

She rushed onward and he kept on her heels.

“Well let’s stick together. I’m sure this thing doesn’t broadcast far. Heck I can’t even get wifi under the Plate!”

“You’re so naïve,” she scoffed. “You are aware that this entire city was built on top of the Holy Fal’Cie Conclave, the largest Mako deposit known to man? Each reactor drills straight into a chamber of the sentient gems. We’re sitting on top of a geyser straight into the Lifestream.”

 _“Lifestream_? You can’t seriously believe in that religious stuff? Mako is a great gas-replacer, but it doesn’t _carry the dreams of the planet_ or whatever.”

“And here I thought you were smart.”

“HEY!”

“Hey _SOLDIEEEERRR!”_

Cloud turned to see a garter slingshot at him. He caught it at the sight of two bunny-eared girls blowing kisses at him. 

“Hey hotties!” he started for them, pocketing the garter. “This party’s in my back pocket, can I move it to yours?...Wait, what?”

A look of disgust crossed his face. _Whatthefuck?_ He ran to catch up with Aerith.

“Sorry about that. Look, I black out sometimes—“

“I know.”

“Huh? HOW? Wait up! Listen.” He leapt in front of her. “You can’t go alone. It’s not safe.”

“With you near? You bet it’s not.”

“Look, I know him. It’ll take forever to explain, but if I’m with you maybe I can get through to him.”

“Good. You do that. You distract him while I get out of the city.”

“Where are you going to go?”

“Like I said, as far away from you as I can get!”

She whisked into a thicket of reeds and scraggle-trees. Dumbstruck, he followed her to a murky pond hidden in the reeds. She touched her staff to the water’s surface. It glowed with the cool blue hue of a wellspring.

“What are you?” Cloud demanded. “I know you’re not human. You get flowers to grow where there’s no sunlight. You heal wounds without medicine. You use magic there’s not even Materia for, that there hasn’t been for hundreds, if not thousands of years, and you’re not even Mako-infused! Are you an Ancient One?”

She knelt down by the spring with a wayward gaze, dipping a hand to restore all of her magic stats and health gauge. That soft, sweet monotone came through her voice in mournful reminiscence.

“Mine was the last family culled from the hierophant tribe. After Shinra killed my father, my mother managed to get me here, where that lovely woman you met at my house took me in.”

Cloud watched her like a sad spirit. She seemed so lonely in life, with a long gaze that matched his own thousand-mile stare.

“You and that lovely woman seem to know a lot about me…or at least about my sword,” he noted.

“Let’s just say we’ve seen it before.”

“You knew Angeal.”

She rolled her eyes, rising from the pond to leave the thicket.

 _“Yes,_ I knew Angeal. Everyone knew Angeal. It’s kind of impossible to not know someone as famous as he was.”

She flowed like a train of feathers as he tagged along at her heel like a puppy.

“How did you know him?”

“I was in his fan club.”

“Don’t give me that.”

“It’s true.”

“Tell me about him. Please. I…barely remember him.”

She sighed then as he clutched his temples, straining.

“He was a nice man, and very brave. That’s all I can tell you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a train to miss.”

“No can do,” he blocked her. “Besides, I promised your mom. SOLDIER’s honor.”

“Well, you’ll be relieved to know that you’re free from your debt, considering she’s obviously not my real mother.”

“Doesn’t matter. I swore to protect you.”

“Heh, you’re going to _protect_ me?”

“Like I said, I swore.”

At that, she strode back from him, a slight smirk on her lips and a gleam in her eye like she was enjoying a private joke. She threw the cowl of her cloak back, placed both hands on her staff and faced him in _fighter’s stance._

“Well then. Come on. How can I know you’ll be able to protect me if you can’t even defeat me?”

“What the—?”

A fireball shot at Cloud, and he dove away. No time to think. It was on.

Fira bolts screamed for him as he ducked and skidded, bewildered into a dazed tunnel vision. Aerith threw her hand out to send a wave of fire rushing at him. In a split-second reaction, he threw up a weak Barrier, riding out the damage. Cloud wasn’t big on magic, he equipped his Materia straight onto his sword. He was big on melee, so he ran in drawing his _Stunner Blade_ in a phenomenal twirl.

The White Mage hurled Blizzard blocks that fell from above. Cloud leapt away from their shadows as they dropped down on where he stood. He bounded out of one shadow into another, an upslash overhead shattered the block to icy glass bits that fell in a peppering rain. Making a beeline straight for her, he flared his sword out while she gripped her staff to meet him.

Cloud swung a great arcing downslash, and she back-sprung away in a whipping ribbon of graceful white light. Landing crouched, she swooped under his high-thrust, bashing his blade up and destroying his balance. A double-twirl wound her up and her staff came forward in a blinding burst, hitting off his blunt-edged sword in a great snapping impact. They whirled their weapons in twirling lance-combat, the train of her cloak flailing like a living lotus flower.

She dove in, cross-sweeping her staff at his legs and knocking him down. A whistling leap with her oaken pole thrown overhead, and Cloud grabbed his wits by their ears and got the heck out of that dropzone right as she slammed down where he’d lain. The impact of her staff dented the ground, driving the point home that she was _not_ some healbot.  

Now she charged _him,_ spinning her staff in windmill arcs. He weaved back through her slicing thrusts that grazed strands of his spikey hair. Why was this happening? Why was she fighting him after helping him so much, when she could have just left him for the Triads? And why did he never know what the hell was going on!

The bewilderment turned to rage in Cloud. He quit backstepping and upblocked with his sword like a riot shield. He forced himself forward through a building rage. A harrowing upslice knocked her staff sidelong. He seized the opportunity to press forward. He threw a blasting power-slash that sent her flying across the ground. She landed on the balls of her feet as a blade came down to cross with her staff. A twist of his wrists flung her weapon aside, and before she knew it, his sword was at her throat.

They froze suspended in a state of subliminal mind-blindness, adrenaline coursing through their taught limbs. At that moment, when Cloud’s eyes bore into her with irises of fire, hers softened, regarding his sword at the flash of her throat. She ran two long fingers along the smooth tang of cured tungsten carbide, and gazed up at him with an air of mysterious awe.

“You hit with the blunt side.”

Cloud lost focus, ripped out of combat mode. His thoughts clunked together like bamboo poles, trying to figure out why he did that. He said the one thing that came to mind.

“…I don’t want to wear it out.”

At that, she threw her arms around him with a gasp, much to his bewilderment. A beaming butterfly smile lit up her entire being, while he just stood there frozen. When she pulled away, she glowed.

“Let’s go. Sector 7 is this way.”

She took his hand and led him onward toward his home. _O…kay._

They hiked along the bikepath of the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, detouring down past South Slope. They were in prime Sector 6 Slums, avoiding rival territory, when a familiar sight accosted Cloud. An armored carriage pulled by two chocobos turned up a tree-lined cul-de-sac—the Don’s prisoner cart.

Cloud’s blood ran cold as he ducked behind a bush and beckoned Aerith to follow him. Up in front of a large, ornate mansion, the carriage halted to unload its quarry. A tall, long-limbed lady-assassin with shard lilac hair and a gunblade escorted a struggling combat-boot girl with tied hands.

“Don Corneo,” Cloud glared. “They’ve got Tifa.”

“Your _friend_?” asked Aerith.  

“Not for much longer if I don’t get her out of there. Wait here.”

“Wait! You can’t just barge in there!”

“Why not?”

“If you want her alive you can’t.”

Cloud thought for a minute.

“I’ve got an idea…gimme your cloak.”

“What?”

“Trust me.”

She hesitated for a moment, then handed over her indigo trim mage’s cloak. He took it, draped it around himself, and threw her a wink.  

“Thanks.”

Then he _dropped his pants._ Aerith turned away wide-eyed at the flash of white skin as he hitched the hookers’ garter around his own shapely thigh.

“Nice to know you shave your legs,” she remarked in a flat voice.

“‘Course I do. Swim team kid,” he replied as he drove his sword into the ground. She furrowed her brow in revelation.

“…Nice to know that too.”

Cloud hung his pants over his sword and stepped back in a solemn, sarcastic rouse. With a hand over his heart, he saluted a would-be comrade.

“A brave SOLDIER. He died honorably…and pantsless.”

“You have _no idea_ how not funny that is,” Aerith scolded.  

“Woo-hoo, BRB!” And Cloud took off skipping up to the mansion.  

Meanwhile, she rolled her eyes and leaned back against his sword with a scoff. The blade held her weight, as if it were _used to her_. She peered out after Cloud, casting a silent prayer to the underside of the Plate that he’d come back at least alive enough to get dressed again.

A lone guard posted outside the door to Don Corneo’s mansion. Cloud pulled his cowl down low and strutted up like he was there to party.

“Hay boiz!” he flicked a bent wrist.

“Who are you?”

“Oh _tch tch_ , Donny doesn’t have to know I’m here. I want to surprise him with a lil’ something _special_.” And Cloud pulled up the cloak’s trim, revealing his lace garter. The guard’s mouth went dry instantly.

“Why you gotta surprise Donny? I’m right here? I can uh, relay the message.”

“Oh doll that’s so sweet of you! Maybe after I tell Donny the _very special secret_ I have to tell him, I’ll come back and tell you something _extra secret_ , just for us.”

But as Cloud stuck out his hip, the guard’s eyes fell to his feet.

“Nice boots. It a secret where you got those too?”

_Think, Cloud. Think fast._

“Oh, you like them? I _love_ boots. Big boots on big men, you know what they say about big men who wear big boots right?”

“Big socks,” the guard peered, his grip on a saber hilt tightening. Cloud threw himself fawning on the big guard.

“Oh you are so funny! Hahaha! And so cute too. Just don’t tell my boyfriend in SOLDIER that I’m here. He gets so possessive and controlling!” Cloud ran a finger in little circles on the guard’s chest, and his good mood seemed to return.

“Naw. Don’t worry hun.”

“Thanks boo. I’ll see you soon then.”

A duckface thrown the guard’s way, and Cloud strolled like a fashion model right into the mansion. A room full of grunts and guards in gear shot to their feet inside, but Cloud strode right past them, swaying his hips like he did whenever he made fun of Tifa. Whistles followed him, catcalls galore! At a lean and lanky 5’9” with a backside built from endless squats, Cloud had all the boys chasing him. With a wagging finger, he put them all down though. What a power-rush! Why didn’t all girls slut it up like this all the time, he wondered? Who cares if anyone _respected_ them? At least they’d _obey_ them!

Down a hallway and around a corner, Cloud caught up to the lilac assassin and ducked flat-back against the wall. She was a big bruiser of a girl with arms like an elite gymnast and a flowing gunblade strapped to her hip. She turned in a quick flash to be sure she wasn’t followed, and Cloud caught a glimpse of her taut face.

_Mako eyes?_

She shoved Tifa into a large study before he could get a good look, and left the door cracked. Cloud flew over to peer inside.

An ensemble of young girls bound at gunpoint stood before Don Corneo, a balding man who held himself like the stereotypical mafia boss, cigar and all. What a cliché. The assassin threw Tifa at the Don’s feet and spoke in a sharp, haunting baritone.

“Last one. I’m done here.”

The Don ashed his cigar with a pervy smile. “Too bad, I’m just getting started. Now, which one…”

He pointed his blunt at the girls like a wand, stopping at each as if to choose from a pin-up gallery. The assassin scoffed.

“ _Teh_ , an old bag like you? Good luck getting it up with just one.”

“Shut up, bitch! I’ll throw you right in this line with the rest of them! Triad traitor! You go to them for protection against Shinra, then to me for protection against them. Who will you run to for protection against me?”

Cloud sweat bullets outside the doorway, knowing he was running low on time. He needed to get the Don alone, needed to get himself in that line-up. Biting his nails, what to do? How the hell was he going to pull off this performance?... _Performance!_

A deep breath, and a silent prayer to the underside of the Plate, Cloud exploded through the doorway.

“ _Hit me, baby! One more time!”_

Tifa’s jaw hit the floor.

_You’re alive!_

While Don Corneo’s brows hit the ceiling.

“Who the hell are you?”

“I’m a slave for you.”

Cloud took slow, seductive steps toward the Don. With his hood pulled low and flowing arcs of his lithe, liquid-lined legs, he strode in a serpentine gait up to his desk. The whole room seemed to freeze, captivated by his alluring aura. Daring, brazen, he laid across the rosewood desktop, right over the Don’s papers! Crawling like an exotic dancer, the accentuated valley of Cloud’s hips redacted onto a tapered torso. He’d always been a little guy. The bend of his toned thigh revealing a garter made the Don swallow hard, but it was a cute smile that sold it. That goddamn androgynous jawline of his!

“I know I may come off quiet. I may come off shy…” Cloud spoke in a sexy wisp whilst running a nimble finger down the Don’s tie. Artist’s hands. He’d been teased for them in school. Cloud busted the myth about little guys and little hands long ago.

“…but let me break the ice. The taste of your lips takes me on a ride…”

The Don licked his lips, and planted a grubby hand on Cloud’s thigh. Rather than jump, Cloud actually _got a kick_ out it! The fact that the Don was running his fingers up a _guy’s_ leg made him cringe with an evil satisfaction. Just not too far now…

“You think I’m in love? Teh, I’m not that innocent,” and Cloud lifted the Don’s hand away in a playful brush-off. _A challenge._

“Ooh baby, I’ve got what you need,” Don Corneo drooled.

“I’m addicted to you,” Cloud smiled as the Don’s hand slid over his backside. He shot up in a quaint rebuff. “But I know that you’re toxic.”

Sitting on the edge of the desk, nose in the air, Cloud tortured the Don with an air of sleek defiance.

“C’mon babe, I don’t want to fight. I just wanna struggle-fuck you sideways.”

Cloud glanced back at the Don, throwing a teasing smirk.

“If you really wanna battle, saddle up and get your rhythm.”

“BITCHES! OUT!” ordered the Don, and the assassin drew her gunblade. She ushered the girls through the door with a look of unbridled disgust. Two guards remained in the study as the Don led Cloud into a bedroom, while Tifa shot wide-eyed telepathic signals at her best friend.

_NO! Are you crazy!_

Both doors closed, and the Don locked them in. He salivated over his little sprite, who backed in a taunting sweep toward the canopied bed.

“Oh girl, you’re about to get an education,” the Don swooned.

“Be careful, I’m not a girl…” Cloud knelt on the temperfoam, circling his nipples with fingertips. “…not yet a woman.”

“Ooh baby, don’t worry. I’ll make you all woman.”

“Really? You sure?”

The Don crawled onto the edge of the bed, and Cloud threw an evil smirk.

“In a minute, I’ma take you on…”

Then Cloud threw back his hood, and the color rushed from the Don’s face.

“WHAT THE—“

Cloud threw the cloak over the Don, and bashed him into a bloody pulp. He threw him all the way across the room to barrel into the far wall. Don Corneo tried to crawl away when a huge boot slammed into his ribs. Cracks and choking gasps ensued. A chair shattered over his back, followed by an entire nightstand. The Don was spitting blood and teeth like some grotesque splatter artist. Cloud grabbed that tie he’d run a finger over earlier, yanked him up, and went to town on his ugly mug with brutal fists.

_“AAAAAAAAHHH HELP!”_

“No-no! That’s not the safe-word we agreed on!”

The door handle stopped jiggling, and the guards outside stood down. Cloud beat the Don senseless with flaring fists that gave him impromptu plastic surgery.

“Oops, I did it again!” Cloud teased.

The Don managed to pull himself up to the dresser, where Cloud slammed his head into the frame over and over.

“Boy, don’t try to front, I know just what you are. You’re nothing but a…”

He threw him through the door, out into the study, and leapt after him with a Michael Jackson scream.

 _“Ahw_! Womanizer!”

“Get him!” shouted the Don, and two big guards leapt upon a lithe Cloud in chocobo boxers. He fell back and stuck his leg out, sending one guard sailing over him into the bed with a crash. Leaning on one knee, he side-kicked the other guard to the ground, then slam-chopped his trachea. Blood spurted from the guard’s lips. The Don staggered back with arms flailing, while Cloud hockey-checked him over his desk. Feet flared up like a dead man, and he was out cold.

Cloud flowed in ninja strides down the halls in silence, looking for the girls. He’d never been in here before. Even the biggest arms deals took place off-premises so as not to implicate the Don. The soft echo of cries filtered through the floorboards. _A dungeon._

He flew through a stairwell that led down, past the basement levels, and came to stone foundations. Slipping in the shadows like blended charcoal, he caught two guards by candlelight. A flurry of impacts, and they were out cold on the floor. Keys? Check.

He ran past empty cells of cold iron bars, until he came to a large one where all the girls were locked in together. They jumped to their feet as Cloud fiddled with the lock.

Tifa rushed to the bars.

“Cloud! What the?”

“Hey Tifa!” he smiled, then threw the doors open. The girls all scurried out and Tifa ran with Cloud. But when they passed by one last cell, she stopped with wide eyes.  

“Holy shit!”

A young man in a black cloak sat cross-legged in the cell, hair so dark it shimmered blue even in the dull dungeon light. He waited in a meditative trance.

Tifa grabbed for the keys but Cloud stopped her.  

“Wait, not him.”

“Why not?” she couldn’t believe it, but he flashed a suspicious gaze at the young man.   

“I don’t know him. He’s probably down here for a reason. C’mon.”

Good point. She ran with him out of the dungeon, neglecting to notice that the young man’s cell wasn’t even locked.

Upstairs, the rest of the guards had their hands full chasing down the other girls. Tifa ducked behind a corner near the entrance when Cloud whispered to her with an immature chuckle.

“ _Tehe_. Hey, Tifa.”

“What?”

“I’m not wearing pants.”

 _Good grief._ She rolled her eyes, but he tugged her arm!

“C’mon, we can duck in a closet. Three minutes.”

 _“Ohmygod shutup!”_ she whirled on him.

“Oh _now_ you don’t want to. When I’m already half-naked and ramped you get all prudish.”

“PRUDISH! What the hell are you trying to say to me in the middle of escaping the Don’s mansion?”

“God, why are you always yelling at me? There’s no pleasing you!”

“Hey! What’s going on over there?”

Oh no! The guard from outside had ducked in. But Cloud winked at Tifa and stuck his bare leg out into the hallway.

 _“Hey boo_ , I’m baaaaack.”

“Hel-looo,” he called, starting for the wagging white limb that beckoned to him. When he got to the corner, two sets of arms pulled him around and beat the living crap out of him. Cloud jumped out into the walkway beaming with a bright smile.

 _“_ Man, this is fun! I should do Vaudeville!”

“You can strip on Thursdays at the bar! Maybe then we’ll actually make some money!”

“Beats deliveries,” he shrugged, and they ran out the door.   

They raced down to the end of the cul-de-sac, panting and leaning over, where Aerith met them with a concerned expression.

“Hey!” Cloud waved.  “Aerith, this is Tifa. Tifa, Aerith.”

“Where’s my cloak?”

“Uh…”

“Go get my cloak!”

“You want me to run back in there?”

“NOW!”

“…Can I at least have my pants?”

Aerith draped Cloud’s pants over her shoulder like collateral. Her piercing glare made his jaw hit the ground.

“...Aaaarrrggh.” He grabbed his sword, spun it onto his back, and ran back up the cul-de-sac in bright yellow chocobo boxers. Tifa gaped after him.

“HOW did you get him to do that? I can barely get him to bus tables!”

“Trust me, you have to speak to him like he’s a dog,” Aerith replied. She faced the raven-haired girl before her, and Tifa didn’t know what to say. What do you say to the White Mage of Sector 5? Aerith pulled Cloud’s fatigues from over her shoulder and handed them to Tifa like they belonged to her. She took them with an apologetic wince, holding them out for a moment, then rolled them up under her arm. Aerith eyed her in haunting seriousness and spoke in a solemn tone.

“…We need to talk.”

Cloud ran back up to the mansion, bursting into the foyer. This time when all the guards jumped to their feet, weapons came out as well. Cloud leapt into combat-mode, swinging his sword like a metronome on a manic high. He wound up like a shot-putter, power-bashing a guard through two separate walls. Block-sweep left, then slash-twirl to send guards careening like dominos. A shortcut occurred to him. His Mako-eyes gave him slightly enhanced vision in the dark. He flicked the light. In two minutes, Don Corneo had twenty less guards to pay.

Cloud rushed on through the mansion with his sword up and wits sharp. He knew that somewhere, the lilac assassin awaited, and he’d have to fight her for his freedom. Near the study, Cloud heard the Don’s voice bellowing in angry tirades.

“You little hussie. You’ll do while I wait for my guards to round up the rest…and get me an ice pack!”

Cloud leapt through the door expecting the assassin, only to find a little girl of about thirteen apprehended by more big guards. Black cropped hair over slanted slit-eyes, she dawned torn jeans and scuffed sneakers, an urchin grabbed off the street. Something horrible brined in Cloud, a building rage as flashbacks of the brothel assailed him. His pulse shot through the roof.

_“…sick fucks…Sick Fucks…SICK FUCKS…!”_

And Cloud’s sword flew in a rampage.

Meanwhile, Aerith and Tifa watched from the bushes as the Don’s Mansion systematically fell in on itself. Furniture flew through the windows, the roof collapsed, and explosions set the whole place on fire. The girls winced.

Cloud stood in the flaming wreckage with bodies strewn all around him, his sword flaring in the firelight. Flashing images played before his eyes, flareshots of flickering phantoms pantomiming in falselight. He saw himself as another person, a silver-haired SOLDIER grasping a bloody daikatana. He was Cloud…he was the SOLDIER…Cloud…SOLDIER…Cloud…

The Don’s gasping cries brought him back, as the man crawled out from under a plywood board. An unrelenting urge assailed Cloud to end this sick sociopath’s reign of terror. Control of his own body left him as he took a step forward, but he never made it any further. The little street urchin whisked past him, drawing a short sword and leaping for the Don. She stabbed him through the chest and slit his throat in a fluid sweep.

Blood sprayed in theatric rain, coating her arms and clothes as she stood on the dying man’s chest. She ran her hand across her face, smearing the Don’s blood over her cheeks like grotesque war paint. This crazy little oriental girl looked straight out of a movie Cloud saw once about killing some guy named Bill. As she slid her tongue over the length of her bloody short sword, he backed away, slowly.

Half-way down the cul-de-sac, a final blast of fire demolished what remained of the mansion. Cloud didn’t look back though…cool guys don’t look at explosions. Instead, he met the two girls with the wild fire that burned behind him in his eyes.

He trudged down to Aerith, stomping and panting, and handed over her cloak. She inspected the pockets, shooting him a flat glare.

“My smokes were in here.” Cloud’s jaw hit the ground as she threw her cloak around her shoulders. “You owe me a new pack.”

Then she started off, a subtle silent air in her wake commanding him to follow. He said nothing, bewildered and overwhelmed, while Tifa held out his pants to him. He grabbed them, shoved his legs into them, and followed. Tifa said nothing, relishing the sight before her. She got to see him get treated like a dog and heel.

 

[Received Mage’s Cloak]


	13. Avalanche

“Okay, where the heck are we going now and what the hell are we doing when we get there?”

Tifa was just as bewildered as Cloud for once. He held his hands in front of him, grasping an imaginary sense of stability.

“Look lets just get back to the bar and get our bearings.”

“Yeah, but what are we going to _do?_ The Don is dead!”

“I fail to see how that’s a bad thing?”

“Dude!...Um…” There were a million bad implications about this swirling around all of them, but no one could quite pinpoint them right now.

“ _He’s_ still out there,” reminded Aerith.

“Who?” asked Tifa, and Cloud’s head slumped in his hands.

“My dog. I at least need to go to the bar and get my dog.” And he rushed off toward the Seventh Heaven with the girls in tow. When they got there, Barret and Wedge ran to them.

“Apache! You’re alive!” Barret threw his huge arms around him, picking him up in a big bear hug. Cloud turned a shade of blue before he put him down.

“Where were you?” asked Cloud.

“I was hangin’ out with mah boy Wedge at his place! Layin low, ya kno?”

“ _Teh,”_ Tifa scoffed. “More like tripping someone in front of you.”

“Man, this little kid here is so cool! He’s shacked up with like nine of his buddies who smoke the dankest weed this side of the Chocobo Farm! But man, I gotta know, what’s up with y’all and them Gunblades?”

“Uhhh…” Wedge rubbed the back of his head. “It’s kind of a gun club thing. We all met through Meetup.com.”

“Dope!”

“Red!” Cloud called. “Aw man, he probably hasn’t eaten in days!”

He stormed through the bar calling his dog, but Red didn’t come. Then chomping noises came from the kitchen. Cloud went all the way back to find the meat freezer door ripped in half and the back end of a big red dog sticking out. Cloud threw his hands up.

“Well, at least one of us was eating good.”

A commotion outside made Cloud turn around. Someone had slammed the valet fence open and electrified it to boot. Cloud ran out back while Tifa and everyone else were already there.

Black suits strolled up through the lot, one big bull rocker of a man and one skinny red-head who looked like he’d stood out in a thunderstorm. The ginger leaned a riot baton over his shoulder, throwing his smoke away.

“This the Seventh Heaven?” he smirked like he didn’t care either way.

“…No,” Tifa replied.

“Figures. Who are you?”

“I’m Latifah Marianne Lockheart. Who the hell are you?”

“Special Agent Reno. Where’s Cloud?”

“Whoa whoa, wait wait wait. Now you guys too?” Cloud jumped out in front with waving hands, but Reno pointed his riot baton at him.

“Cloud Strife, you’re under arrest for high-treason, domestic terrorism, desertion, impersonating a SOLDIER 1st Class, and pretty much every crime we have a law for.”

“What in the name of Gaia is going on here?! It’s like I’m taking crazy pills or something!”

“Come quietly. You’re no match for the Turks.”

“Says you.”  

He ripped his sword off his back and everyone jumped in line with him.

Reno charged his baton and shot a glance at his partner.

“Well Rude, add _resisting arrest_ to the charges, eh?”

Cloud and Tifa rushed in, Cloud taking the ginger and Tifa taking the _strong-silent-type_. Cloud knew he would need a sleeker blade to fight the quick-slitting baton. He called a slim katana to his hand from among his fusion swords.

Cloud’s sword thrust in from up high. The baton slapped the blade down, driving its tip to the ground. In a flash-reaction, Cloud turned the edge up and heaved so high it threw Reno back a step. He flew in at the Turk with a whisking down-slash that bashed against the electrified riot baton to throw sparks like a lightning rod. Reno flipped the baton over in his hand, and in the blink of an eye bashed in slitting swipes that sent Cloud whirling off balance.

Tifa meanwhile drew her two _bokken_ swords and leapt in a flurry at Rude. The big man ducked and dodged her swings like a dancing geisha, surprisingly agile for such a big brute. She slashed a wide wisp and followed its line with her other sword, while he side-stepped a defensive kata out of the way.

“What are you afraid to hit a girl? Not like I want you to hit me or anything but jeez!”

Tifa swept in a clean swipe that knocked Rude’s glasses from his face and jumped back. The guy pulled a spare from his suit pocket. _Get a load of this dude_. But he still wouldn’t hit her.

“Come on you pansy!”

Rude dodged a down-slice, took a wind-up, and palm-slammed her back into Barret. Cloud went flying into the pile right afterward, and all three of them lay crumpled in a bruised heap with Red sniffing them on the ground. Reno strode in for the final blow, when the White Mage stepped in front of them. He coughed.

“Aerith? What the hell are _you_ doing here?”

But Aerith just waved her finger at him.

“You’ve been slacking off, Reno.” Then a transmutation circle formed around them, and Reno’s face turned white.

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit! Ruuuuuun!”

The two Turks booked it like chickens on fire away from the bar. Once out of sight, the transmutation circle vanished, and Aerith ran over to everyone.

“Come on!”

They all gathered their wits and raced to the garage, where Cloud jumped on his G-Bike and threw his palm on the computer.

_“WELCOME CLOUD STRIFE, SOLDIER 1 ST CLASS.” _

“ _Impersonating?”_ Cloud furrowed his brow. “What the hell were they smoking?”

Aerith hopped on behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, while Tifa, Wedge and Barret flew over to a gnarly chopper that looked like it used more gas than a shipping truck.

“We can’t ride _three-up_!” Tifa panicked, but Barret jumped on and gunned the ignition.

“The Hardy-Daytona can handle it, not Cloud’s _crotch-rocket.”_

Cloud burned tire-tread out of the garage, while Barret followed and Red _ran_ behind them.

All of Sector 7 flew by, and Sector 8 came up like a big leveled bombing campaign had blown through. They stopped their bikes on a bulldozed stretch of broken asphalt and Cloud whirled.

“What the shit? Now the Turks?”

“You know them, Cloud?”

“Yeah I know them! I’ve been running into my old co-workers left and right. It’s like a goddamned company potluck down here!”

“What happened, man?” Barret asked. “After all this time you been a nobody, and they come huntin’ you down now?”

“It’s the Fal’Cie.”

“The whaaa?”

“The Crystal in the reactor.”

“Brah the only crystal we got’s laced in my bud.”

“ _Gyahh_ nevermind. It’ll take too long to explain.”

“Well we gotta git to a safe-house or somethin. Men in Black start comin’ for ya, you usually disappear.”

Wedge’s phone rang. He picked up the receiver, said nothing, and hung up.

“Who was that?” Cloud asked, but Wedge shrugged.

“Telemarketer.”

Everyone trained a queer look on him, then diverted their attention back to each other.

“Okay, here’s the plan.”

“What we gonna do, Cloud?”

“Well if you would shut up and let me talk, I might tell you.”

“You don’t know what we gonna do, do ya? Heck might as well _AHHH!”_

A gunblade sliced across Barret’s back, knocking him to the ground. He didn’t move. Cloud barely managed to draw his sword before a slam-slitting saber-edge flew at him in rip-whirls. What the hell what the hell what the hell!

Cloud leapt backward as the gunblade fired at his face. Bullets grazed the side of his temple, vision blurred to a long singular tunnel that locked onto the image of Wedge Slade charging in a murderous rampage. The truth flared like a long-over sparring session.

 _You’re holding back_.

The gunblade sliced in lightning precision at Cloud’s torso, stabbing in for the kill. He shattered Cloud’s defense like ceramic toys, making him whirl and flurry to avoid a razor-edged defeat. Everywhere he stepped, the gunblade was there, poised to make short work of his bewildered retreat. A harrowing power-slash from Wedge sent Cloud flying back into a brick-pile, where scaffolding toppled down on him in a clamor.

With two enemies down, Wedge turned in a cold steel stride and went for the girls.

Tifa’s swords flew out as Aerith cast her Barrier. Her brow furrowed in shocked rage, attempting to steady her trembling hands. This person was not the Wedge they knew. His serpentine eyes stole the breath from her body as he strode toward them. But as he took a running dive-slash for her, the full Buster Sword shot in to block it. A bloodied Cloud wrestled with everything he had against a teeth-gritting Wedge, driving him away from the girls in a primordial desperate rage. He slammed Wedge back across the ground and followed him, rushing up to ride the momentum of his power-slash. A leaping down-bash dented the ground a split second too late as Wedge handspung away, unleashing a tirade of bulletspray that Cloud whirled his sword to block. He deflected the lead splatter and dive-rolled after him. A bash-flurry of lenticular war-slices crash-careened against the gunblade. Sword met saber in a dueling demonic frenzy. Cloud saw the image in his head of a gunblade lunging for Tifa, and threw everything he had into a fury-slash that bashed Wedge straight through a brick wall. The boy lay on the ground groaning. Cloud ran over and shoved his boot into Wedge’s throat. The fight was over.

Barret stirred, shaking his head out. He staggered to his feet, ripped his Carhart jacket off, and shrugged out of the bulletproof vest he’d concealed underneath. Meanwhile, Cloud stood over Wedge’s bloodied and battered body with the Buster Sword pointed at his face.

“A SeeD!” he cried, and Barret charged over aghast.

“YOU LITTLE NIGGER! You stupid fucking _NIGGER!_ Thas’ right, wit tha ER! Think I don’t head up a gang and learn a thing or two. Errone always tryin’a knock me! You bout ta find out what we do to traitors in Avalanche!”

Cloud’s brow furrowed in confusion and pain. Only one word slipped out as his bleeding eyes bore down on the kid he’d called his own student.

“Why?”

Wedge coughed up at Cloud, gasping a weak response.

“You know how you always talk about the Pride of SOLDIER? Well…that’s kind of how it is for us.”

A shadow fell over them, so dark and austere that it pieced the metal Plate. Cloud closed his eyes amid the burning realization, the terrible truth, and when he opened them, they were pure fire. He looked down on this bleeding boy in a silent, burning rage.

“Barret,” he called, and the two grabbed Wedge by an arm, dragging him.  

“Wait, Cloud?” Aerith leapt to her feet. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“Aerith, come over here with me,” Tifa ushered as Cloud and Barret dragged Wedge behind a blown-out building. Barret cocked his arm-cannon, and Aerith flailed in panic.

“He’s just a kid, we don’t have to do this, wait!” But Tifa threw her arms around her, pulling her away. The two girls hunkered down, the White Mage collapsing in a crying heap. When a single shot rang out, she broke down in convulsing sobs.  

Barret and Cloud emerged from behind the building with eyes on the ground in thought. Cloud flipped the Buster Sword onto his back while Barret flew into planning.

“I gotta get ahold of the other chapters, tell’em wassup. I can’t come witchu, I gotta go now, I gotta git to em fore they do—“

“Barret, Barret! They’re all dead,” Cloud said, and the big man stood shocked. “There’s no more Avalanche, we’re the last ones. If you split off, they’ll corral you too.”

A solemn thought crossed both their eyes, like a confusing realization neither could quite grasp. Barret met Cloud’s stare with a look of quiet bewilderment.

“Where you headed?”

And Cloud turned his face toward the harrowing Tungsten Plate above them.

“Never thought I’d be saying this but…I have to go back to work.”

At that, the girls stood up with their own forlorn sense of doom.  

“To Shinra?” asked Aerith.  

“I have to find out what’s going on. If they’re coming for me now, they’re going to keep coming. I know where to get my answers though. The R&D Data Room.”

Cloud turned to find everyone behind him, lined out and ready to follow him into Hell.

“How are we getting there?”

 _“We’re_ not doing anything. I’m going on alone.”

“Like hell you are!” Tifa cursed.

“Da hell, Mo? You just talked about not splitting and now you splitting!”

“Look, this is above the Plate and we’ve got SeeD’s after us now too. I can’t put anyone in that kind of danger.”

But Aerith stepped forward.  

“You wouldn’t let me go alone, what makes you think I’d let you?”

“Why do you care so much all of the sudden?”

“I have issues with Shinra too, maybe I also want answers.”

Cloud brushed them all off, backing against a brick wall.

“Listen guys, it’s too dangerous. It’ll be way safer if you all stay here. Unless…”

He ripped his sword out, slashing into the shadow on the wall behind him. Everyone jumped to see the blade stop short of two reflecting orbs like cats eyes in the gloom.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Cloud called, and a voice like a rasp whisper answered him.

“No more than you kill yourself by storming the Shinra Headquarters Building.”

From the shadows stepped a little girl, thirteen at the most, with torn up jeans and cropped jet hair just long enough to tie with a shoe-string. She wore a bandana of a rising sun, and carried a short sword on her hip. Cloud recognized the street-ninja from the Don’s mansion, and his blood ran cold.  

“Who the hell are you?”

She spoke in a haunting rasp voice, like an urbanite priestess.  

“My father was Godo Kisaragi, the chieftan of Wutai. I am Yulan Kisaragi, Wutai’s greatest warrior.”

“Wutai?”

“Wait, it’s okay. I know her,” Aerith swept in front of Cloud’s sword to address the little Wutai thief. “Yuffie, what are you doing here?”

“If you intend to take the stairs, I hope you have an army like they do. And if you plan to get there on the Express Way, I hope you have an Eidolon.”

“You saying there’s another way in?” Cloud peered.

“Not for stupid jerks who aim to steal the Ancient One.”

“Yulan, this is Cloud. He’s a friend,” said Aerith.  

 _“Another_ friend?”

“Yuffie! Go home!”

“No! Not without you!” And she ran into Aerith, throwing her arms around her waist like the mage was a big sister. Aerith’s anger receded, and she looked up at Cloud with soft eyes. The SOLDIER glared for a good hard minute, and let his shoulders slump.

“She can come as far as Shinra and she can show us the way in, but that’s it!”

Cloud stomped off back toward the bikes with everyone holding in snickers.

They followed Red through dark neighborhoods. He carried Yulan on his back like a little racing jockey. The skin-and-bones street-ninja weighed all of about 50lbs, while Red clocked in at quintuple as much as she did. When the dog stopped at a crossroads that veered like the nexus of hope and despair, the party gasped at the desolated sight of blinding poverty and sheer wanton waste that beheld them. A breeze blew newspapers across their path, rank air wisped from overflowing sewer grates, and sludge pooled in puddles by the side of the road. Abandoned buildings lay windowless and grafittied to all hell, while piles of trash taller than Cloud accumulated in back allies and street corners. No people, the place was quiet as death.

“Where are we?” Tifa asked in a near-whisper, as if the very sound of voice in this place was sacrilege. But Cloud stared straight ahead.

“I know where we are, the last place we want to be. Sector 0 Slums. _Triad Stronghold.”_

Yulan hopped down off Red, signaling the others to dismount their bikes. Together, they walked on light feet through dark streets that smelled of blood and garbage, crunching footfalls on dirt that had once been gravel.

The silence was maddening, like a dragon’s deep breath. They noted more echoes than all of their footfalls combined could produce.

“What’s that?” Tifa spun around. Nothing for a long moment, until a shot rang out at her feet. Everyone jumped in a circle, back to back, swords up with Aerith casting a Barrier. From the shadows of buildings emerged laughing forms, thugs in all shapes and sizes converging on them. The Triads had come to defend their turf.

At their head, an olive-skinned woman with a battle lance strode tall and menacing. Her oriental hair frayed out like shorn silk, and her blue sari was spun from the finest cloth. Here Barret Wallace, leader of Avalanche, had the honor of meeting his biggest rival, the leader of the Triads. She leered in a powerful stance, while Aerith recognized someone at her left hand. The leather-vested creep from Sector 5 stood like a stalker, throwing a wink her way.

Upon reaching the head of her entourage, the lady-gang boss spoke in a thick accent.

“You’re all either really dumb or really brave to waltz into my hometown with those tats.”

“Did she say tits? Hey, fuck you!” Tifa spat.

“Avalanche has been infiltrated by SeeDs,” Cloud declared. “We’re the last ones. If the Triads don’t want to be next, they’d best let us pass.”

“Bullshit. How do we know you’re not casing us?” accused Aerith’s stalker. At that, Cloud threw Wedge’s gunblade on the ground in front of them.

A stillness ensued. Everyone froze at once. No one breathed, no one moved, not even the tail of the big red dog. In a flash, the lady-boss lashed her lance out left, spearing Aerith’s stalker straight through the torso. A mottled shock crossed his face as he fell, and his gunblade clamored from his belt. The Triads strip-searched him, and found a school ID from Trebia Garden in his wallet. They all looked up at Cloud’s motley crew, who held their breaths in subliminal icy fear.

 “You’re welcome, Mercenary.” The lady-boss threw him a smirk. “You’re not the first SOLDIER I’ve escorted through lowcity on the run. Follow me.”

She lead them through the burned out sludgehole that was Sector 0—a third world hellspot directly below Shinra’s shining Headquarters Building, Midgar City’s dirty little secret. Problem was that it wasn’t exactly a secret. Journalism students from the University topside came down here all the time for their thesis projects, and the area never got any better. If anyone topside gave a damn about lowcity, they sure had a subtle way of showing it.

“So the Don is dead, huh?” remarked the lady-boss. “Who killed him?”

“I did,” Yulan cut Cloud off as everyone turned to her, “to end the skin trade in the Slums.”

“Teh. Gunna need a lot more than one dead mob boss to end that. Someone will take his place, and until then, the entire underside of the Plate is headed for outright war. Thanks for that’un, SOLDIER. Now where do I have the pleasure of dropping you off?”

“The old rocket factory,” Yulan continued. “There’s a pipeline that runs up to the Plate. It will take us straight to Shinra Headquarters.”

At which the boss shot one last queer look Cloud’s way.  

“I was right. You _are_ really dumb.”

The rocket factory had been non-operational since before any of them had been born. Rusting launch-pads loomed with terraforming shuttles still prepped and awaiting a ghost-launch, mementos from a glowing age of enlightened technology long gone. The whole station had been fueled through a central pipeline leading up to a mainframe above the Plate. Service ladder rungs welded to the outter frame spanned all the way up to the top.

The entire party stood wide-eyed with gaping mouths, kinking their necks up at the ascending pipeline. 

“It’s a long climb up,” said the gang boss. “Need me to hold anything for you?”

Cloud shook his head as he approached the pipe ladder. “No thank you. We’ll be fine.”

“You sure about that?”

Cloud followed the line of her eyes down to a red dog wagging his tail at her side.

“ _Aw shit_.” He saw Red’s tail flapping in giddy anticipation. _Where we goin’?_ After a long moment of tense consideration, he met the boss’ eyes. “I’ll be back down for him, or I’ll send for him with some payment. Take care of him?”

“Teh. No prob. I’ll take _good care_ of this little champ.” She patted his muzzle, and Red stopped smiling. As Cloud turned for the pipeline, a long, sad howl echoed throughout the Slums. A memory flashed back to him from when he’d blown up the reactor, when he’d first met the thing he’d come to regard as _his_ dog.

_…Hey, you gonna fight’im?..._

Cloud stopped in front of the pipeline as Red’s wailing cries reverberated in his heart. Here he was, leaving his huge dog in the hands of rival gang members who were now the pinnacle of the criminal underworld. He had to do it. He had to go on. Somehow. His hands shook before the service ladder, this was so fucked! He cried inside like his dog cried outside, mustering everything that he was to abandon his best buddy. He’d killed his student, and now he was ditching his dog.

After a long moment of this internal dilly-dallying, Barret threw his hands high and yelled to the Plate.

“Ahh dammit Mo! I’ll carry the mutt.”

“Wait but—“

“Shutchyo freakin hole! Both of yas whiners!”

And he went back to grab the stupid dog.  

 

[Received Yoshiyuki Katana]

 


End file.
